


Semper Ardens

by haganenoheichou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Gladiator!Levi, M/M, NSFW, Public Sex, Roman!AU, Roman!Erwin, Sexual Content, m/m - Freeform, secondary Farlan/Levi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7265464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haganenoheichou/pseuds/haganenoheichou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman!AU - Levi is a slave bought by Erwin, the dominus of a failing ludus, a training place for future gladiators. Short and defiant, Levi is the very opposite of what a true gladiator should be. Will Erwin be able to break him in? Or will Levi respond in kind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> So I started watching Spartacus. This happened. Pardon me for historical inaccuracies and shitty Latin. Research only goes this far, I'm afraid.

“Are you shitting me?” 

The men surrounding Erwin roared with laughter. He stood, motionless, staring down the last of the pick – the last he had been forced to purchase for his lack of coin. Five _dinari_ for this… _thing_ was a scandalous amount of money already. His friends, even those he truly considered such, would see him die of shame for having committed such an economical faux pas. 

“Are you sure you do not want to reconsider, _domine?_ ” Erwin turned to look at Hanji whose usually firm eyes softened at the sight of his humiliation. He had to hand them that – out of all the secretaries and money counters in Rome, they seemed to be the most capable of human compassion. Which was more than what could be said for the dogs howling with laughter as Erwin procured his coin to pay for his newest slave. 

“A man does not reconsider,” he said, nodding at Mike who dragged the chain of the beast so that he would stagger behind Erwin and his servants as they walked out of the marketplace. 

Erwin struggled with his curiosity as he went, wanting nothing more than to look at the boy and inspect him thoroughly. The only thing of note about the animal with tangled long hair and murderous glinting eyes was the fact that he was small – a _midget,_ the auction curator had said; yet he was far too tall to be considered such. He was old enough to stop growing, though, so buying someone this small for a role as big as what Erwin wanted to give him had been a foolish endeavor on his part. 

He could feel the tension between his _doctore_ and secretary, both of whom questioned his reasoning but feared saying anything as this was the way of things: he led, they followed. He was a patrician, after all; which meant that mere slaves, elevated as they were, could not overstep their position and bring doubt to their master’s thoughts. 

They came to the _ludus_ within the hour, and the new boy was chained to the wall which had once served as tether for dozens of good men, all training to become the ultimate of what a slave could be – _gladiators_. Now, though, the _ludus_ of Erwin Artifax was barren as his deceased wife’s loins had been. All that was left was the formerly glorious villa, a tribute to days past, when his father had been in charge; and the idle slaves who were all too dear to Erwin’s heart for him to free or sell.

“Look at me,” Erwin commanded, standing several arms’ lengths away from the boy who was breathing shallowly, held up only by the chains around his wrists. His pale body was broken – scratches, bruises of various coloring, wounds littered the skin that stretched over frail bones. The boy looked as though his skeleton was hollow from the inside, like that of a bird; so light was he. 

“Look at me,” Erwin repeated when his command went unfollowed. The boy failed to obey again and this time he nodded at Nanaba, one of the few gladiators who’d stayed despite the lack of opportunity for glory, despite the fact that they had coin enough to buy their freedom. Nanaba forced the boy’s chin up. 

The shaggy fringe did nothing to hide the glinting beads of the boy’s slate-grey eyes. The pupils were hollow pits, consuming all light that entered them with not a single glint to return. His face had been damaged as well – but Erwin was pleased to see that none of the wounds were really severe. Some salves from Hanji and the boy’s face would shine again. Yes, he could see the potential beauty beneath all the bruising; and yet, beauty was but one tiny fragment of Erwin’s reason for purchasing the slave.

“What is your name?” Erwin asked. The boy startled. His own servants knew it was part of Erwin’s strange affinity for his property – he liked them to retain some semblance of personality, along with the names that had been given to them by their mothers at birth. Most Romans cared not for foreign names, nor did they come up with anything more original than _you there_ and _thing_. 

The boy’s breath escaped him in a hoarse groan. Water was scarce around this area; even the Romans had to conserve, drinking only wine and using cloths to clean their bodies. The drought had taken away many a life of the less fortunate ones. 

Erwin signaled to Hanji and they pressed the neck of a flask to the boy’s lips. He drank greedily until the vessel was ripped away from him. 

“You shall drink more when you earn your keep,” Erwin said gravely, his eyes traveling over the boy’s form. “Now, tell me your name, or shall I call you nothing but _slave_?” 

The boy’s eyes hardened again and he narrowed them into slits, not much differently from a prowling cat. 

“Levi,” he whispered, his chapped lips forming the word with difficulty. 

“A slave’s name,” Erwin said. “You come from the lands of the philistines?” 

“I come… from… Judah,” Levi replied, his voice harsh with the scorching of the desert. “Where my people were taken by yours-,” 

“As slaves, yes,” Erwin said, nodding at the boy, not at all concerned with his insolence. Levi spoke with the slightest accent, almost imperceptible. He had been dragged around Rome long enough to have picked up the language, then. It made things all the better for Erwin who didn’t have time to school the slave in the ways of fine talk. 

“What… are you… going to do to me?” Levi asked, struggling with his breath. 

“I shall not kill you nor work you to death, unless you force my hand,” Erwin said, eyeing Levi. The boy frowned at him with confusion, not used to being spoken to on almost equal terms by Romans. “I shall train you. Or rather, the _doctore_ here will.” 

_“Doc… tore?”_ Levi asked, frowning. Erwin gestured to Mike whose motionless face seemed as if it had been carved of stone. 

“Your master in the arena and on the sacred training ground,” Erwin said. “I was told that you had won quite the fight before the slave traders got their hands on you. Five men fell from your bare hands, or so the tales tell.” 

“They’re… not wrong,” Levi replied, trying to stand. His knees gave out, however; and he fell upon them again with a foreign curse on his lips. 

“Well then, we shall improve on whatever skill you may already possess. In a week’s time, you will attempt the final test and we shall see if you have what it takes to be a gladiator in the _ludus_ of Erwin Artifax,” the Roman replied. Levi frowned again. “ _My ludus,_ boy, the very ground you kneel upon.” 

“You would have me… slay men for pleasure?” Levi asked. “Not even my own?” 

Erwin laughed, prompting Mike to laugh as well. Mike was loyal that way – he had nary an opinion of his own outside of the sands of the arena. 

“I shall make you into a fine one yet, Levi,” the patrician said, nodding at Hanji. “Have something done about his wounds and fix his hair. Stew and half a cup of wine should serve enough for someone as starved as he is.” 

He noted the disappointment in Levi’s gaze. “No need to make you sick with overfeeding you.”

Erwin turned to leave before a feeble voice, yet one filled with determination, stopped him in his tracks. 

“How shall I… address you?” 

Erwin’s eyes found Levi’s once more.

“You may call me _dominus_.” 


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I could not wait for this, so here it is; chapter two of this hot mess. 
> 
> Just a couple of notes: 
> 
> Artifax is the Latin word for 'smith,' which is a direct translation of Erwin's last name, nothing more.  
> Minutus means 'small.' Yes, I am a bitch (hey, I'm 5'3").

“So what’s the deal with _dominus_? Hasn’t had a cunt to fuck or a cock too flaccid to fuck it?” 

Levi barely managed to finish the sentence before Mike’s large hand struck him across the face, sending him flying into the wall. The young man struggled to his feet, staggering. He clutched at his cheek which was already taking on the sheen of a well-formed bruise that promised to take a while in healing. 

“What the fuck is your problem-,” 

“My problem, novice, is that you insult the man who saved your ungrateful ass from the mines,” Mike growled, his voice low, hand poised to strike again. His other palm was already caressing the handle of his ever-present whip, strapped to the belt of a former victor that he wore with pride as he prowled, a dangerous beast, among the gladiators of Erwin Artifax’ _ludus_ , overseeing their training. 

“What of it to you?” Levi spat blood, glaring at Mike. “You are but a _slave_ to him!” 

“If not for our _dominus,_ I would be dead and you would have been raped by those filthy Gauls you were captured with,” Mike said, narrowing his eyes at Levi 

“I would rather be a free whore than an enslaved one,” Levi replied, struggling against Mike’s hold as the elder man removed his half-empty bowl of stew and the much wanted cup of wine that Levi had not touched yet. 

“Well, now you are but a hungry one.” 

Levi turned, his eyes flashing dangerously as they were laid upon Hanji. The secretary and medicus to boot was a very peculiar character – one could never guess what they were thinking; and once conversation began with them, there was no telling where it would lead. Levi was weary of such people; they were as Romans – cunning, devious, with all their fault concealed beneath smiles of sweetness. Although he sensed no falsehood from Hanji as of yet, he was sure one day it would spout from their heart and bury him if he were incautious enough to trust their word. 

“From where I’m sitting, Levi, you have two choices,” Hanji continued, sitting down on the bench in the almost vacant mess hall. For a _ludus_ with but five gladiators, it was sad evidence to the failing of the Artifax fortune. 

“I wasn’t aware I had even one,” Levi replied, gazing longingly at the stew that went back into the pot it had been brewed in. 

“There are always choices when there are men enough to make them,” Hanji said. 

“Wise words,” Levi finally replied, leaning back as he resigned himself to an evening of empty belly. “Said by what great man?” 

“Your _dominus_ ,” Hanji said, laughing out loud when they saw the expression on Levi’s face. “You are quite the emotional one, aren’t you? Not many men in here are. A welcome change.” 

“You do wound the soul with your words,” Mike said, clapping Hanji on the shoulder. 

“Without intent to do so, rest assured,” Hanji replied, grinning at the man before turning back to study Levi as if he were a most fascinating discovery. “Now, two choices, was I saying? Yes. You can either die a slave or-,” 

“-or become a champion?” Levi asked with a scoff. Hanji roared with laughter. 

“Jupiter himself would not possess such self-assuredness. No, minute Levi, what I wanted to say was that you could either die a slave or die a gladiator,” Hanji said, leaning in with enthusiasm written all over their features. They were quite indelicate – almost as if carved of marble by the hand of someone quite unskilled. Even then, Hanji’s face possessed some sort of magnetic value to it; once Levi looked, he could not glance away. 

“That is reassuring,” he said grimly. “Perhaps I do not wish to die. Have you thought of that option?” 

“I am afraid such are the options of a man bought by Erwin Artifax,” Hanji said with a shrug. “He is a merciful master if you honor him. As your _dominus_ , he could do anything with your life worth only but a couple _dinari_. It would be a pity to see his investment perish because of one slave’s stubbornness.” 

“So I either die over a jug of wine, serving the sons of whores who captured my people or I kill those of my station to amuse said sons of whores?” Levi asked sharply. His blood thrummed with the very desire to slam Hanji’s face against the tabletop and make quick work of their life; then again, he knew without a doubt that Mike would rise to protect his friend and take Levi to Pluto’s realm. 

“I suppose if you do not find a better way of putting it, yes,” Hanji said, glancing at the young man thoughtfully. “Does the choice displease you?” 

“At least it’s a choice,” Levi said, sighing as he glanced at Mike. “And I suppose you are the man who can turn me into a gladiator?” 

Mike’s mouth twisted into a small grin, almost imperceptible due to the large scar that marred the side of his lips, constantly turning one corner downwards as if he were in perpetual pain. His large nose inhaled the rancid air of the trainees’ quarters. 

“The only man who can turn you into a gladiator is you, minute Levi,” he said, nodding at the new slave. “Perhaps you would do well to remember that courage and a quick town alone do not get you far in the arena.” 

“What does?” Levi asked. 

“The desire for honor.” 

“I have no desire for honor; especially not your master’s honor,” Levi spat.

“Then may it be the desire for blood.” 

* * *

“Two blades?” Erwin asked with a polite arch to his brow as he observed Levi’s entrance to the courtyard. For a week, he had heard little of the boy – besides tales of his insubordination and extreme cunning, told to him by enthused tongue of Hanji. Yet he had not passed a single night without turning his thoughts to the unusual trainee. It was a gamble, buying someone this small, this cumbersome to train to become a fighter; and yet, Erwin could hear his father’s words echo in his ears each day stronger – that he was bound to trust his gut.

And his gut told him that Levi was a bet that would pay off. 

“He was the one who suggested it,” Mike replied, twisting the end of his whip around his hand. Erwin appreciated the man’s strength and his intellect, so he could only hope that they were as faithful to him in this instance as they had been before many times. 

“It is a miracle he can even carry this much weight,” Erwin breathed, observing as Levi swung the swords around himself. The boy’s body had improved in its health quite significantly over the past week; and yet his pale skin still retained a bit of a sickly sheen to it. His bruises had faded somewhat, becoming of an odd yellowish color, and his deepest wounds had already faded, poised to become scars. 

He wore nothing but a shoulder plate and a cloth concealing his privacy, yet he stood with strange aloofness. This was the first clue to prompt Erwin into thinking that yes, he had made the right choice. The Levi who treaded the sand, swinging his blades about effortlessly, almost as if he were dancing, flirting with death that loomed ahead for him, prescribed by the fates themselves, this Levi had nothing in common with the slave boy Erwin had bought but a week earlier. He was different when he had metal in hand. As far as Erwin knew, his attitude outside the sands had not improved, he still talked back and refused to associate himself with the small brotherhood of men Erwin had gathered under his roof; and yet, there he stood, small but vast, the depiction of poise.

“Attend your _dominus_!” Mike called. Curious gladiators peeked from behind the pillars of the courtyard, eager to see the show. None of them had gotten much time with the new slave bar Nanaba, and even they had been rebuffed by the boy’s cool demeanor and sharp tongue. 

Levi’s head had a stubborn tilt to it as he laid eyes on Erwin.

“Levi, you shall now proceed to fight one of my men. If you can stand beneath his sword until the sun hits the opposite roof, you will have passed,” the blond commanded. Levi’s mouth was mocking as he bowed his head shallowly. 

“ _Dominus_.” 

“Begin!” 

Fighting Reiner, a German slave of great stature, was as easy as gutting a tied-up pig, Levi thought to himself as he effortlessly dodged the man’s sporadic attempts to stain him with blood. Instead, every time he got the opportunity, he jabbed his swords into Reiner’s thighs, his ribs, making the man huff in anger. He was like a boar: silent, big, angry. His rage was what blinded him. 

Reiner charged at him once more after a particularly nasty scratch found itself across his eye. With swift grace, Levi swung himself around the man’s looming figure, knocking his sword out of his hand and then tugging him down to the ground by the back of his neck. Reiner fell into the sand heavily, his arms flailing about as he tried to get Levi off him. The small man held on fast, his two blades sneaking their way in until they were both at Reiner’s neck – one by each side. 

He glanced up. The sun was nowhere near the roof. 

“Shall I end him, _domine_?” He asked cockily. Reiner tried to spit in his face but instead choked on his own saliva. 

“Enough,” Erwin shouted, his voice hoarse all of a sudden. An amused glance found his eyes and he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling blood flush to his cheeks. 

“Enough. You have proven yourself quite swift with the blades.”

Levi stood up, neglecting to offer Reiner a hand. The man staggered to his knees, humiliated by the howls and taunts of his comrades who’d been watching. 

“You managed to train him like this in a week?” Erwin asked Mike who had been watching the match impassively. Mike let out a grim chuckle. 

“A week of him being idle, perhaps,” he said. 

“Your meaning?” 

“He never showed even half of these moves to me, _domine._ ” 

“He is skilled, then, much more than we had imagined,” Erwin concluded, eyeing Levi again. The boy stood there, covered in sand and blood, defiant as ever. “Yet he requires much schooling in the ways of discipline.” 

“As you say, _domine_ ,” Mike said, bowing his head. “Does that mean that you would see him schooled in those ways?” 

Erwin didn’t grace Mike with an answer, addressing the entirety of the _ludus_ instead. 

“Levi the slave passes the test and becomes one of our own,” he declared. “And if our finest has been unable to stand against him for but a moment, you best all train until all sweat leaves your bodies.” 

Levi could feel the displeasure radiate from the others. _Great,_ he thought, _now they have reason enough to murder me in my sleep_. 

“I grant you the name of Minutus. Approach and receive the mark of the brotherhood.” 

* * *

“ _Minutus_ ?” Levi hissed as Erwin’s brand sizzled into his skin, an ornate set of wings that smelt like scorching death itself. Erwin’s fine features twitched into what might have been the Roman version of an amused smile.

“I am burning your flesh with heated metal, and yet it is all that concerns you?” He asked, not without curiosity. 

“Humor me, _domine_.” 

“It is a name that would lead the audience to false belief. One you will dispel the moment they see you take victory in the arena. Wear it with gratitude.” 

“The only thing I will wear with gratitude is a necklace made of the spine of the next man you send to fight against me,” Levi replied defiantly. This time, Erwin did laugh. 

“A beautiful accessory to crown a beautiful sentiment.” 


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between Levi and his new dominus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the new chapter! All the mistakes are mine!

“Your first match in the arena is almost upon us,” Erwin’s booming voice sounded, still loud even though he had barely whispered the words. Levi looked up and over his shoulder at the Roman who seemed somehow too _clean_ to be inside the mess hall of the _ludus_. Erwin was clad simply – in a midnight-blue tunic which he had left uncovered by a toga since he was in the confines of his own home. Such freedom allowed Erwin to flaunt the muscular columns of his thighs – not as milky as traditional Roman society would have them be, but slightly marred by the influence of the sun. Levi supposed it meant that the man spent more time sunbathing than tending to his duties. Or he fancied himself a fighter, as he had once caught glimpse of the man carrying a _glados_ back to the armory. 

The red leather of Erwin’s sandals clashed strangely with the color of his attire, making his fair hair stand out even more, almost as if it were the sun perched on the blue of the sky represented by his tunic. 

Levi refused to acknowledge the fact that his mind turned to waxing poetic around the man. Erwin Artifax was as close to poetry as Levi was to his freedom. 

“I pray to the gods that they grant you their mercy,” Erwin said, sitting down on the bench reserved for slaves. Levi refused to give in to the bait and raise an eyebrow – clearly, the man wanted to appear as if simple when he had the magistrate of the fucking city licking the folds of his asshole. 

“I do not believe in your false gods,” the fighter said, casting his gaze to the side as was appropriate. _Do not look at the Romans,_ he’d been told back when he had just been taken by the slave traders. _Avoid seeing the irises of their eyes._

“What gods do you believe in, then?” Erwin asked, amused. Levi didn’t want to converse; and yet he knew he was likely to receive punishment for rebuttal. 

“My people believe in but one God.” 

“Does your god have a name?” Erwin asked, appearing curious. Levi felt his eyes on his own flesh. It made him feel uncomfortably warm even though the evening promised to be cool while winter time fast approached. 

“He does,” Levi said. “Yet we do not dare speak it.” 

Erwin hummed. “That seems foolish.” 

“Good that our God does not dwell on the opinion of those who blaspheme,” Levi blurted out, coloring in the face when he realized the harshness of his words. Instead of turning to ire, however, Erwin’s face softened with amusement. 

“How do you pray to your God, then, if you dare not call him by his name?” 

“He has other names. Titles. Those that approach him closer to our prayers,” Levi replied unwillingly. “The Book instructs us on the ways of prayer.” 

“I will see to it that you have means to pray to your God, then,” Erwin said. Levi snorted. 

“That would be quite impossible, _domine_.” 

“Why ever so?” 

“For true prayer, there must be no fewer than ten men of my faith present,” the slave said, chancing a smile at Erwin’s confusion. 

“What strange laws you have.” 

“Each has their own means of belief,” Levi mumbled. 

“That Book you speak of… can you read?” 

Levi glanced at Erwin, unsure. Did the man want an educated slave? 

“Yes. Both the language of my people and yours.” 

“You are well-taught, then.” 

“I taught myself,” Levi said. “A necessary evil, education.” 

Erwin laughed out loud. “Your words would have comforted me greatly when I had been schooled by the fine men my father had brought to the villa.” 

Levi tried not to make a scathing remark at Erwin’s pampered upbringing: the man was clearly ignorant of his own privilege, flirting with slaves as he did; making friends among riffraff that was just as Roman as the fucking sands of Egypt – if only by attachment. 

“I would venture to read this book of yours, to better understand your people,” Erwin said. Levi scoffed inwardly, knowing the man only said so out of some ill-conceived notion of respect; that Levi wanted it, even reveled in thinking that one day he would earn it. Levi didn’t give a rat’s ass about respect – there was but one thing that he wanted to gain from his _dominus_. Freedom. 

“My people’s Book has not been translated into any language,” he said, smirking slyly at Erwin’s surprise. He supposed the patrician had thought that Rome’s arms extended so far that a translation of a foreign slaves’ book would be easy to acquire – if only impossible because Rome spat on other peoples, the peoples it enslaved. 

“An interesting notion,” Erwin said. “Perhaps you should then teach me your language.” 

Levi tried not to roll his eyes in the man’s sight. “What use would it be for someone who speaks but the universal tongue of the empire?” 

“Call me a man of curiosity.” Erwin leaned in, making the distance between them uncomfortable. Levi fought with himself not to shift away. The Roman was bigger than him – it was something Levi had to admit absent enthusiasm. Erwin Smith stood a titan next to him; and yet, Levi was soon to fight in the arena for the man’s honor. Another thing repulsing him about the Romans – sending smaller men to fight in their stead for the entertainment of the crowd, the men who schooled and owned gladiators were but glorified jesters.

“May I ask for an indulgence, then?” Levi said cautiously. Erwin lifted an eyebrow and nodded in encouragement. 

“Would you tell me why your curiosity acts on my behalf?” The smaller man asked, cocking his head to the side. “I am not exotic neither am I sturdy as the men you could have gotten for the same amount of money.” 

Erwin considered his response for a moment. “Sentiment, I suppose.” 

“Sentiment?” Levi asked, barking out a laugh. “Do not tell me I remind you of your late wife.” 

His eyes widened when he realized what he’d said. Stories of just how much the _dominus_ had loved his dead spouse were rampant in the _ludus_ , and yet Levi had managed to cock it all up by one incautious comment. He was to be flogged for disrespect; or void of the right to fight in the match he had been looking forward to.

To his astonishment, Erwin only smiled wryly. “Nothing of the sort. Oh, you and my wife have absolutely nothing in common!”

“Is that so?” Levi asked. “I supposed my rebelliousness evoked some sort of nostalgia in your heart.” 

Erwin chuckled. “Not at all. Why, my Marina was the epitome of refinement. Not a single uncouth word fell from her tongue. She walked the streets of this city as if she were a goddess among men. Her hands kind, her eyes sharp and her council forever soft.” 

“She sounds… lovely.” _Boring_. 

“She was,” Erwin said, his gaze now distant as he undoubtedly relived the days of past. “I married her against the wishes of her family. She had nearly been disowned but then I came into my own inheritance as my father drew his last breath and handed over the _ludus_ into my hands. That seemed to have been enough for her _pater_ who welcomed me as a son. With much deliberation, of course, and still she was given to me. A woman of higher standing than myself.” 

_I don’t suppose she made love like a slave,_ Levi thought to himself, biting his tongue this time. He could easily imagine it: the golden-skinned _dominus_ lying in bed with a fair _domina,_ beautiful by all Roman standards, with dark brows and flushed cheeks and sooty eyelashes, her hair styled by the latest fashion in Rome, silks and the lightest cottons wrapped around them as they kissed, stroked each other slowly, gently, so unlike the frantic fucking Levi had undergone in his time as a slave. No urgency but that of dinnertime, nothing more to think about but the trivial matters of Roman citizens. 

“What… what happened?” Levi blurted out. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking… _domine._ ”

Erwin sighed heavily. “Something tells me you would find out even if I denied you the truth now. Rumors travel fast in a place like this. Most of the slaves know already, as do the people of the city.” 

“Childbirth,” he said simply. “We had been unable to conceive for the longest time and she had lost three in her loins… the last one took, and lasted until the very end, until the time came for the child to see the light. It never did, and neither did she.” 

“Apologies, _domine_ ,” Levi said, lowering his eyes. 

“None needed,” Erwin said. “As hard as it had been to see both wife and child torn from my arms, something inside of me chose to see it as an experience. A tragedy, yes, but an experience worth remembering.” 

“A lesson?” Levi asked, confused. How could death of a loved one be a lesson in anything other than grief? 

Erwin granted him a small smile. “Perhaps. The conclusion I drew changed my life in many ways. I still regard it as the wisest decision I have ever made.”

Levi looked at the man inquisitively. For the longest time, Erwin said nothing before he stood to his full height. His eyes seemed kind to Levi for but a moment before something almost ungraspable lowered itself over them as a helmet would, shielding his true thoughts from the cruelty of the world. 

“I learned that I am a selfish man, Minutus,” he said quietly, placing a hand on Levi’s shoulder briefly only to pull away a moment later. “I made the decision to never love again for I would not get hurt that way.” 

Levi sat for a long time pondering Erwin’s words, even when the night around him went pitch-black. 

“What a coward,” he whispered towards the heavens when he finally left the mess hall, dead set on winning the match for Erwin. 

The only certainty in his life at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I names Erwin's wife Marina in this one since the name Mary/Marie/Maria was not popular in the Roman Empire until Christianity was spread and the Hebrew name Miriam was latinized.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty long because 10 hour intercontinental flights. Enjoy!

Levi was to face Colossus. The name itself seemed to bring fear to mar rowdy Roman forehead, and yet the new gladiator stood unmoved as Mike informed him of his fate. Apparently, this Colossus fellow was a German caught East of the Rhine river; and as all Germans were rumored to be, he was tall and vicious. Though Levi could not fare much in terms of the former, the latter he had in spades. Mike and Hanji had affectionately taken to calling him a rabid little dog, with the other tenants of the _ludus_ soon to follow behind. Though the nickname was unflattering, Levi did not discard it – at the very least, it was intimidating; more so than Minimus, the official name he'd been given by his _dominus_ , forever condemned to fight in the shadow of his own height.

"Perhaps you should attempt to appear more fearful than you are," Hanji said, placing a hand on Levi's leather-draped shoulder. He was wearing the new armor Erwin had ordered for him – and though the merchant who had brought it to the _ludus_ had sneered at the thought of a gladiator of such size, even he had to admit that Levi took on a formidable sheen when he donned it. 

"What would the end of such a display be?" Levi asked, inclining his head towards the shaking wall on the left behind which the Colossus raged. He didn't want to think the man a god as many of those in the audience sought to do – no man was a god, be it a false Roman god or the true God of his people. Men were mortal; but made of flesh and bone, able to bleed and breathe – and Levi would see to it that the Colossus breathed no longer. 

"He has never been beaten in the arena. I have seen many a match with him. He is a rabid animal, for even those who raise the _missio_ do not receive his mercy. He kills them before anyone in the _pulvenus_ can speak out," Hanji said with a shudder, yet their eyes remained strangely, hypnotically fascinated by the talk of such beast. Levi gave them a silent glance filled with inquisition. 

"You would do well to at least be reasonably afraid," Hanji said, shrugging as if they didn't expect Levi to heed word. Levi did not. Indeed, he remained stoic as he looked up at the floorboards of the arena from where the sound of raging crowd, aching for blood and display, echoed, calling out to him as a final swan song.

He would not hear those sounds as his last. 

"My village was pillaged by the Romans. My mother raped and killed before my eyes by the very men who serve in the empirical army," Levi said mercilessly. The words seemed to wound Hanji as they winced. Perhaps there was yet place for empathy in their heart. "I myself was taken by the Roman commander who destroyed my people. He thought me useful in bed. I bit his cock off when he tried to shove it down my throat." 

Levi's darkened eyes met Hanji's and for a moment it seemed as though the secretary had forgotten how to draw breath. 

"The time for reasonable fear has long passed," Levi said grimly. "Now comes the time for righteous rage." 

* * *

Boo's and jeers greeted Levi as he stepped on the sands of the arena. He looked around, not intimidated in the slightest by the crowd whose sole purpose seemed to be his humiliation. They spat at him, called him names he could not discern among the other noises, threw disgusting rotten fruits at his head, in an attempt to meet target.  


He let the sounds wash over him, standing in the center of the sands, swords clutched tightly in his hands. He looked up at the _pulvenus_ to see sky-blue eyes staring him down under a neat coat of golden hair. His _dominus_ was himself of quite the form, especially when compared to the lesser men (at least, in stature) who sat perched next to him on the best seats overlooking the games. The Magistrate himself appeared meek, almost dry as a sweet fig, compared to the blond man. He swept the arena with his gaze, allowing Levi to draw breath once before fixing him with his iron stare once more. 

"People of Neapolis!" He called, booming voice able to subdue the crowd at a second's notice. Levi was quite impressed: though he knew that the Romans were frequently schooled in the art of speech, there were few who actually mastered it. Many a politician and military man fell to the peril of appearing too dishonest, or too eager when presenting their cause. As irony would have it, the best speakers Levi had encountered during his time in Rome had been the slaves from beyond the Euphrates and the merchants who handled slave and coin; the very men who had never attended a school of rhetoric once.

Yet Erwin was different – he commanded attention; seeing every single head turned towards him, every ear keen, every word stilled just to heed his own. 

"In honor of the celebrations dedicated to our patron gods, I present to you the most recent acquisition of the House of Artifax," he continued, watching the reactions of the crowd as a whole, as if aiming to pick out unruly man who would dare interrupt him. "A slave from the lands of Judea. I present to you Minimus!" 

The crowd paused for a moment, as if unsure what they were supposed to do; and then a roar so mighty it almost made Levi's eardrums split resounded throughout the arena, momentarily uplifting him. He looked towards his _dominus_ and received an approving nod in return. Quirking a smile, Levi placed his helmet over his face, obscuring his vision slightly with a net of metal. 

His triumph was short-lived, however. As soon as Colossus was announced by his _dominus_ , an unpleasant-looking man by the name of Zeke, the crowd's roar rose threefold. It was obvious whom they favored. 

Levi turned to look at his opponent. As increased confidence would have it, he'd have laughed out loud; yet he resisted the impulse, instead nodding at the man in hopes of reciprocity. Instead, though, Colossus, who yet lived up to his name being almost twice as tall as Levi himself, only beat himself in the chest with the hilt of his sword. 

A beast, then. Levi's smile yet grew. 

* * *

Victory over Colossus had been expected by only two in the arena, it would seem: Levi himself and his  _dominus_ who remained completely unshaken even when Levi threw the head of the man he'd just fought in front of the  _pulvenus_ . The crowd cheered, the Magistrate clapped Erwin on the back. Levi's only reward from his master was an approving nod. So many nods. It was as if the man knew not another way of communicating with the rest of menfolk. Or perhaps it was only Levi who was so misfortunate that he had been selected to learn this special language of his  _dominus_ .  


That, he did not know. The only thing he did know was that he had secured a special position for his _dominus_ , as favored guest in the Magistrate's house. It was a great honor to a Roman yet piss and shit for someone of Levi's standing. For his troubles, Mike presented him with three coins, asking him whether he would see them spent on wine and cunt. 

Levi declined, gripping the money tightly as he walked back across town to the _ludus_ , accompanied by Nanaba and Mike. He would collect the coin until it was enough to offer his _dominus_ in exchange for freedom. He knew not the worth of it; but he understood Erwin a wise man. A man who would know from the very beginning that their relationship as master and slave would one day be broken; Levi would see it done. 

As sun fell beyond the horizon, Levi found himself called to the master's office. He got there as fast as feet would carry him, only to have Erwin offer him a cup of wine and a toast. 

"The Colossus has been a formidable contender in the arena," he said, raising his cup, prompting Levi to do likewise. "And yet, you beat him in a breath and escaped with nary a scratch. If you were not of little faith, I would think you blessed by the gods. Perhaps Mars himself carries you on his back." 

Levi smirked. "Mars? The god of war? Seems foolish to have a separate god for an act so multifaceted." 

Erwin cocked an eyebrow over the rim of his cup. "Your meaning?" 

"War is never just war, _domine_. It is desolation, despair, looting, killing, raping, enslaving. It is many things to many people. For some it stands as enrichment." 

"You speak harsh words, Minimus," Erwin replied formally. 

"I do believe I have the privilege as a champion," Levi said. Erwin shook his head, watching Levi with a pitying expression on his face; one that brought ire to Levi's heart. 

"Champions are fleeting in the arena," he said. "Even those so favored by the people, such as Colossus, fall to stronger, better men. Their names but lie forgotten in the sands, moist with blood." 

"So you would have me live as but a mayfly? Zipping around for the amusement of ones and annoyance of others?" Levi asked. Erwin's mouth quirked into a small smile. 

"You took note of something I thought well hidden, then," he said, nodding at Levi for more words. 

"I saw the way the praetor from Rome gazed upon you," Levi said. "He looked as though you'd scorned him by putting cock up his favorite slave's ass." 

Erwin let out an amused bark of laughter. "You do yet see the truth, dear Minimus. Albeit perhaps a smidgeon altered. He attempted to marry the woman I would later call my wife. He had more in terms of worth, position, breeding. She chose me. He'd never quite forgiven me for it." 

"So you are a thief who steals women's hearts, are you not?" Levi asked. "Quite ignoble of a man such as yourself."

"What has been given freely cannot be stolen," Erwin said. "Though her father more honored the idea of having Nile as son-in-law, her heart lay towards mine." 

"A direction that led her to happiness, I suppose," Levi said, wondering whether he would ever be privy to such beauty. A person to love. A person to hold. Someone to fuck and gently caress all at the same time. 

"Happiness and death," Erwin said grimly. 

Levi considered him for a moment. "For some of us, death is but a blessing." 

"Perhaps so. Yet for some, their own life holds lesser meaning than that of another," Erwin said. Levi rolled his eyes inwardly, keeping his face stoic. 

"You are quite the romantic, then, _domine_ , I had not expected such rosy words to spring from your lips," he said as he leaned against the opposite wall casually. He sipped from his cup the finest wine he'd ever tasted, in the company of the finest man he'd ever met; and yet none of it stirred heart in bosom. All he wanted was to see a glimpse of the Judean desert, the scorching sun setting upon it, sending cascades of light over the majestic dunes of sand and dust. 

The paradise the Romans had made of Neapolis was but an illusion, kept up by the hard-working hands of the slaves. It was a pretty piece of land, to entertain eye and entreat men to spend coin investing into a dream. Perhaps as was the entire business of keeping gladiators. 

"Have you always wanted to be a master of a _ludus_?" Levi asked curiously, wishing his boldness seen as curiosity, not a desire to aggravate thought. Erwin inclined his head, taking a sip of his cup as well. 

"I do not know whether it was what I wanted or whether it was my only destiny," he said. "My entire family consist of _lanistas_ , Minimus. My father, grandfather, his father before him, all the way down the line; all stood as masters of the finest gladiators in the republic. It falls to me to continue the legacy as the only male heir – the only heir at all, in fact." 

"You do not have brothers?" Levi asked. He couldn't picture his _dominus_ as anything but an only child. 

"I do not. My mother was ripped from world before my father could place another child in her womb," Erwin said gravely. "Do you have kin?" 

Levi shook his head. "Not that I know of, _dominus_. My mother was a whore even in Judea, prostrating herself against the wall of the Temple and offering her body to those who walked by for meager coin. Whether I have a father, or whether the Gehenna itself had spat me out, I do not know." 

"Tell me, then, have you been completely alone? This entire time that you roamed free?" Erwin asked, seemingly horrified at the thought of solitude. Levi only shrugged. 

"I saw it as a blessing, _domine_. I enjoy not being obligated by the matters of the heart." 

"And friends?" 

"I had but one," Levi said, looking down at his feet. "It was quite a long time ago, _domine_ , I yet forget his face." 

"Does this friend have a name?" 

Cautiously, Levi nodded. 

"And does he yet live?" 

"I do not know. He was taken by the soldiers as I was. The last time I saw him was on the slave ship leaving port," Levi replied, attempting to keep his tone even. 

"Hang on to that name, then, Minimus." 

"Levi." 

Erwin's mouth quirked again. Levi found himself quite taken with the gesture. 

"Levi," the Roman repeated and for a moment, there was weakness in Levi's knee.

* * *

There was little point in denying the fact that despite his utmost attempts to do so, Levi just could not bear to dislike his  _dominus_ . There was a certain quality to the man, as if he were a gemstone among shit that were the other Romans – and better yet, he had taken to calling Levi up to his chambers and conversing with him deep into the night, his duty and Levi's training in the early morn notwithstanding. Perhaps such indiscretions were frowned upon, and Levi had caught several glances from his fellow gladiators that had been less than friendly, and yet, he could not keep himself away.  


Erwin did nothing to staunch the rumors that bled through the doors of the _ludus_ like blood from severed neck. Instead, he chose to entreat those who fueled them, giving them more to talk about. Though Levi took note (how could he not?), he said nothing as his place was to fight for the glory of his master. 

Funny how such ill-placed words, so wrongly romantic of nature, had found themselves behind every action Levi took in the arena. Soon enough, Minimus of Neapolis became known as a worthy opponent, and both Erwin's companions and foes sought to have him fight their own flock in the arena. He went silently, with only a single glance at his _dominus_ to know that victory was not just an option: it was but the only outcome. 

"You know, people have been talking," a slave to the kitchens, Isabel, who had become quite frequent guest in the training grounds after Levi's arrival in the _ludus_ , told him one evening over a bowl of lukewarm broth. 

"That is what people do," Levi said idly. He was no fool: the glint in the girl's eyes betrayed exactly what she meant with her words. 

"That the _dominus_ himself has tugged you to his bed," she said with a giggle. "Now, we're friends, aren't we, Levi? Tell me, is it true? Does he yet take breath from your body while you rid his-," 

"Watch your mouth," Levi said harshly. Isabel just gave him a look of amusement, cocking her eyebrow at him knowingly. 

"So he hasn't yet, then?" She said, reaching out to touch Levi's arm before he snapped it away from her grasp. "But you do think about it sometimes... You know, like men do, when they have a free moment and frustrations to unwind?" 

Levi gave the girl a heavy glare. "Perhaps other men do." 

"You find yourself incapable?" She teased. Levi took her by the wrist and thrust her hand beneath his breeches. She giggled, pulling away. "Quite the contrary. What stills roaming hand, though?" 

"My frustrations are well liberated in the arena," Levi said curtly. "I shall not have people besmirch the name of our _dominus_ by spreading such lies." 

"Besmirch?" Isabel asked. "You really do sell yourself quite short of value, Levi." 

"In what way would that be? I am but a gladiator who lives for a single purpose," Levi mumbled, going back to his food. 

"You are a champion," Isabel hissed. "Half of Neapolis wants to get down to their knees and worship your cock." 

"The Romans would never stoop so low," Levi dismissed. "They would never lie with an animal such as myself." 

"Perhaps an animal is what they seek to escape the mundanity of proper life," the girl replied. "And perhaps the _dominus_ seeks to do the same by inviting you to his office every other night." 

"I would not have it so," Levi said sharply, eyes cast upon Isabel's amused face. "The man is good, as good as a Roman can be. To be talked about in such a fashion would threaten his position and our own." 

"What would you do?" Isabel asked. "If his reputation were to be put to perilous ground by rumors of your bedding?" 

"I would seek to terminate them in any way I can," Levi said, despite the strange hollow feeling in his chest. "I would seek retribution for miscast words." 

"You fight like a beast yet you speak like a nobleman," Isabel said, sighing dreamily. "Perhaps one day you would see the appeal." 

"If I am truly as noble as you speak, I would not."

"Perhaps then, there is no harm to accepting the advances of other Roman noble folk?" Isabel said. "To stop the rumors." 

"You would have me whore myself out to them?" 

"They would seize rumor if you do," she replied. Levi's brow furrowed. It was not an idea so bad it was not worthy of consideration. "The _dominus_ allows you time in the town, does he not?" 

Levi nodded, thinking hard. "Maybe I shall see myself to the taverns, then." 

Isabel giggled in delight. "Be sure to sample Nile the Roman, then! I hear he has a taste for tight hole." 


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! A little bit of Ereri, but nothing too central to the plot :)

Seeking out company among the Romans had turned out inexplicably easy – at least to the dirty slave boy Levi had been before the glory of the arena had been bestowed upon him. He had asked his _dominus_ for a reprieve – a single night in town; and though the man had been reluctant to let him go, he had finally agreed upon it, given that Levi be accompanied by one of his trusted. The selection had fallen to Mike, the _doctore_ himself. The man’s apathetic presence by his side concerned Levi not.

He would see Isabel’s concerns grow cold.

The moment he set foot in tavern, eyes were upon him, murmurs of the name his _dominus_ had given him upon the tongues of those present. Romans and slaves, tenders and whores; all were watching him.

The owner of the house himself, a portly Roman with coins on a string around his neck, came from the crowd with open arms to greet him.

“If it isn’t the slayer of the Colossus himself!” He called out, making sure every soul in the place heard of the esteemed patron who had just walked through the door. It was strange to Levi, a slave, to be thought anything more than that; and even the Romans who had scorned his very walking the earth beneath their feet, seemed to be predisposed to sharing drink and whore with him. He received claps upon back from people he had never before laid eyes upon, all cheering, speaking his Roman name as if it were a blessed curse.

“What brings you here, to my fine establishment?” The man questioned, prompting Levi to attempt suppression of a grimace which indicated his regard for the _fine establishment_ , indeed. He managed, though, instead pulling on a semblance of a neutral expression, and nodding towards Mike who had been left unaddressed this far.

“My _doctore_ and I wish wine and company,” he said, voice growing stronger. In the past weeks he had become well-practiced in Roman speech, his Judean accent almost gone, having been replaced with a lilt almost as fine as that of his _dominus_. “Word has it that this is the place for both.”

The home owner laughed loudly, a deafening sound, hoarse and calloused by years of drunken stupor and opium consumption. “Word is correct.”

“Then shall we?” Levi said, gesturing towards one of the tables. The man clapped his hands, prompting the slaves he owned to bring forth amphorae filled to the brim with swill.

The night stretched out like the supple body of a slave girl, strewn with many pleasures to which Levi remained cold even as he downed cup after cup of wine, coin spilling from his palms and that of his companion. Even Mike, the great man of discipline, seemed to have lessened his grip on it. And yet, Levi sat on the wooden table, surrounded by men and women, Romans and slaves alike, unmoved by the proceedings. He had come here for a cause, and he would see it come to life.

A good opportunity presented itself when he had already thought his outing futile. A young Roman master came from within the roaring party, his eyes set upon Levi’s. He stood tall among the others, clearly the heir of quite a fortune. Levi turned towards Mike inquisitively.

“Eren, the son of the most skilled _medicus_ in the city,” Mike whispered, eyeing the boy whose green eyes had already caught Levi’s grey ones. “Minutus, I would caution against–,”

“The _dominus_ had let me go with word that I could enjoy myself this night,” Levi replied, daring sharp word. “I would see his bequest fulfilled.”

“Suit yourself, then, young Minutus.”

Levi’s corners turned upward. Tonight, he would be Minutus. He would use the name to his advantage and rid the world of rumor about his _dominus_. He owed the man that much for allowing him escape from the mines. Erwin was a good name. And Levi was hungry for lustful completion, so long removed from it.

Eren approached him with catlike grace. Closer still, he was younger than he had initially looked, with brown hair that rested in an unruly manner upon cheek, and piercing eyes that seemed to see more than what Levi had to offer by appearance.

“The great Minutus is shorter than he seems in the arena,” were the first words from his lips. _Pretentious little fuck,_ Levi thought to himself, smiling instead of giving life to the words he thought.

“Height is not counted among man’s virtues,” he replied sardonically, leaning against the table as he toasted Eren with a fresh cup of wine, handing him another.

“Forgive offense,” Eren replied quietly, those eyes of mischief smiling. “I merely wished to say you stand a titan among men.”

Levi nodded. “Accepted, then. You are quick of word.”

“And yet quicker of other skills still,” Eren replied with a laugh. “I stand but your adoring fan today.”

“What would you have me test you on, of those skills?” Levi asked boldly, stepping closer. Eren’s followers who had come with him into the house slowly melted away into the crowd, allowing their master privacy with the gladiator. Eren reached forwards, taking Levi’s hand, with cup in it, and sipping from it with a smile.

“I would have you greatly satisfied with all I have to offer, great Minutus.”

Several moments later, Levi found himself pressed against the wall of a nearby storage room, his back scraping stone as errant kisses were placed all over the sides of his neck, his face, his shoulders. Clever fingers of a _medicus_ in training undid the leather belts of his uniform, sliding them off quickly. Eren reached for Levi’s _subjugaylia_ next, hand beneath the fabric, teasing, cupping, fondling. Levi gasped in delight, capturing Eren’s lips with his own as the boy divested them both of lower clothing, their skin molding together in the heat of the night.

Being taken by a Roman young _dominus_ was not as disgusting as Levi had imagined it to be – his experience with prior slave holders had been so much worse, after all. Eren was fresh of spirit and body, generous with the lust he gave will to, allowing himself unrefined actions a Roman would think twice about when in congress with a mere slave.

The boy spent himself over Levi’s skin, having dared not take him completely. Had he asked for it, Levi would have refused – for he was not about to spread legs for any Roman, satisfied with quenching rumor through other means. His hands and mouth rivaled his ass, and he was well prepared to offer those up to the boy who seemed quite content with such dedications.

“Fuck… You are so beautiful,” Eren breathed into his neck one spent, and Levi, struggling with his own breath, smiled at him almost genuinely. At least the boy had returned the pleasure he’d been given, as evidenced by the moisture drying on the skin of Levi’s belly.

“I live but for a show,” he replied, pushing himself off against the wall and beginning to dress. The rest of the people in the house seemed not to have noticed his absence and that of the boy. “My very existence is a spectacle in itself.”

“A most impressive one,” Eren replied, gathering his tunic over his body and replacing the fastenings. “And yet I find myself yearning to know more of what goes on in head of yours.”

Levi’s smirk was forced this time, eyes cast away from the sight of the Roman boy. “Nothing of worth, _domine_. I am but a foolish gladiator.”

He made to move away towards the main area when his wrist was caught in Eren’s grasp. The boy tugged on his hand, allowing himself to place another hungry kiss on Levi’s mouth. He didn’t linger, pulling away with regretful face.

“I would not stand corrected so. There is much more inside this head of yours, I believe,” he replied in a hush. “I would see it discovered.”

“I must return to the side of my _dominus_ ,” Levi said, pulling away once more, this time to a safer distance of two arms’ lengths.

Eren hummed. “Perhaps later, then, I shall come to visit the fine house of Artifax with purpose in mind and cock in hand.”

Levi fought the urge to shudder. Suddenly, this affair seemed not a good idea. “Until that moment, I shall take my leave, then.”

“Dream of me tonight, won’t you?”

Levi didn’t.

* * *

“You were seen in a compromising position with the  _medicus’_ son night prior,” were his  _dominus_ ’ greeting words the next afternoon when the man came down to oversee Levi’s training with the  _doctore_ . Though Mike himself looked a little rough, Levi stood fresh and ready for a fight – the copious amounts of wine he had partaken in the night before had had no decent effect on his mental faculties (a fault Hanji had called unfair in the morning).

“He desired my company, _dominus_. He stands a fan of the games,” Levi replied dutifully, setting his sword down at his side as Mike stepped away to allow them conversation.

“And did you fulfill his thirst for knowledge of them?” Erwin asked, his voice strangely cold. Levi had not heard it reach such clime since he had been bought from the slave handler. He found himself looking at his sandaled feet, a strange hollow feeling in his chest.

“He seemed… satisfied,” he replied quietly. Erwin’s fingers forced his chin up, making Levi startle. The man had never touched him before – the _dominus_ had always been detached from any slave, let alone him.

“People speak of many things passing between you two, Minimus.” _Levi_. “None of them words.”

Levi pursed his lips.

“What of it? You allowed me the outing, did you not? For the coin and glory I had brought this house,” he said stubbornly. He saw Mike’s back tense at the repartee. Nobody spoke back to the _dominus_ in this house, no matter how friendly their standing with him.

Erwin’s gaze darkened.

“Sleeping around with children of notable citizens will not lend you any more standing among them. You will always be a slave.”

_Unless you free me._

“Standing is not what I was looking for in my congress with the boy,” Levi replied smoothly, glancing up at the imposing sculpted face of his _dominus_.

“What was it, then?”

“A night of pleasure was all I sought,” said Levi. His master’s gaze darkened even more and he took a step towards the gladiator.

“You thought seeking pleasure outside of this _ludus_ was your only recourse?” Levi frowned.

“Am I to think I could have sought it here?”

It was Erwin’s time to frown. “Do what you must. I shall not inquire anymore, as long as your aptitude in the arena stands firm.”

The statement felt like a lash on his back, yet Levi held his own. His _dominus_ cared not for whom he slept with. Yet Levi found himself wondering what it would feel like if he did. If he had spent all of last night sleepless thinking, wondering whom Levi was sharing his body with.

He struck the thought from mind before it took root further.

“Then I believe we are at agreement, _dominus_.”

Erwin’s expression was unreadable as he left without another word, leaving his best gladiator in the dust of the courtyard.


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna dedicate this chapter to my good friend Rosalyn, may her OTPs become canon (preferably without dying).

“Our _dominus_ calls you to his rooms no longer,” Isabel observed one day over her chores in the gladiators’ barracks while Levi sat polishing his sword. If he were to tell the complete truth, his sword required no polishing whatsoever – and yet, there he was, killing time as if it were a fiercer enemy than whomever he would have encountered in the arena. Loneliness was all he had whenever he stayed inside the walls of the _ludus_. Seeking comfort of company now required going outside – and his _dominus_ was quite adamant on working him to the bone; requiring him to train longer, harder hours. 

He was no fool – he knew that Erwin was holding back his own ire at Levi’s behavior. But it was best for both of them if Levi was the one who bore the brunt of it all; lest Erwin’s ear was reached by the horrifying rumor people have been spreading about the two of them. Levi was afraid he would end up in the mines if his _dominus_ was to be made aware. The esteemed head of the house of Artifax did not need such libel on the account of a slave, even one who fought as arduously as Levi. 

“I suppose he has found better entertainment than the company of an unworthy slave,” he replied quietly, checking the edge of the blade with his middle finger. “Perhaps it has been long overdue.” 

“I served him breakfast this morn. He did not seem very pleased with such detachment,” Isabel noted, glancing at Levi cautiously. The gladiator huffed. 

“What would you have me do? Continue our association beyond that of a master and slave and see his name smeared into shit and piss?” 

Isabel sighed. “Your self-sacrifice has gone unnoticed by him, then. He does not understand your sudden fascination with the whorehouse.” 

“We stand together in this,” Levi replied. “The young master Eren has been quite the pest in the recent nights that I have visited the town. I do believe he fashions himself a gladiator.” 

Isabel giggled loudly, prompting Hanji to shush her. “The boy is eager to plunge cock in ass. What better then, than the ass of a champion?” 

“He is not alone,” Levi said. 

“Oh, the poor champion stands exhausted by scores of admirers lining up to see his heels above head?” The girl teased him. Levi rolled his eyes, putting aside his sword and turning towards shield instead. The fine metal bore the mark of the house of Artifax – an ornate _A_ surrounded by wings. How sometimes he wished before going to sleep in his cell that those wings would spring alive and carry him away. But to where? His home stood destroyed by the Romans. His mother dead, his village decimated to the ground. He was a citizen of no place anymore, and his only abode lay within the very man who had paid the cost of his life in _dinari._

“You do not seem too happy about their attentions. Do they not fuck like the gods they make themselves out to be?” Isabel asked. Like most of the maidens who served in the villa, she was yet to be touched by a man – but unlike the others, she did not consider it a matter of pride. The girl burned with adolescent desire; and Levi only pitied her. She did not know the lowly life of those who succumbed to desires of the flesh. He himself felt he stood mistaken by his assumptions. Romans were not the refined, polished dolls he had conceived them to be – on their bed, in the corner of a whorehouse, upon a table in a tavern, they were base creatures who fucked like any other slave within their possession. Some of the marks Levi bore were akin to those he had gathered in battle – and yet their origin came from more questionable source. 

“They are boys, who fuck as such,” Levi replied sharply. He glanced at Isabel’s perplexed face. 

“One would think that having such favor with the Romans would sit well with a slave-,” 

“There is but one Roman whose opinion of me is close to heart,” Levi bit back. “And he would not spare glance at me now that I have… done this.” 

“He would thank you later,” Isabel assured him. Levi huffed. 

“What for? Turning his _ludus_ into a house of body slaves?” He asked. He glanced up at the balcony of the villa, wishing he could see his _dominus’_ gaze upon him. 

“You vie for his attention still? The man thinks you unworthy of his company any longer,” Isabel said. Levi spun on the spot to look at her with ire. 

“And whose fault is that?” He asked angrily, stepping closer, hand on sword’s hilt. 

Isabel put up two hands in imitation of surrender. “I was not the one who laid with the boys of Rome and flung it in his face as repayment for freedom.”

“You whispered poison into my ears!” Levi heard his voice rise. “You were–,” 

“Only speaking the truth, young champion,” Isabel said. She placed a hand on his chest. “You did well to heed it. The _dominus_ would be in far greater trouble if rumor had persisted. Heartache would cease soon enough, once a worthy Roman master beds you.” 

“Heartache is not…” Levi paused, flinching back. “The issue at hand.” 

“Is it not?” 

“ _Minutus!_ ” 

Levi looked up at the terrace to see his _dominus_ ’ impassive face. 

“Yes, _domine_?” He called back, heart stilling in chest. 

“I would have words.” 

Levi ascended the steps to Erwin’s villa, feeling his blood cool despite the scorching sun outside. An inkling of an unsure future settled beneath breast, and he quickly sheathed the sword he had been practicing with, not realizing that he hadn’t even left it with the servant boy. 

He stepped into the office, already prepared for the worst. The previous verbal lashing he had been given by his _dominus_ still weighed on heart, and yet when he saw Erwin’s grave face, he realized that it was nothing compared to what would come next. Surprisingly enough, Erwin poured him a cup of wine and slid it towards him across the table, jerking his hand back before their fingers made contact, as if Levi were diseased. 

Accepting the drink if only because doing otherwise would be impolite, Levi bowed. 

“You hailed, _domine_?” He asked cautiously. Erwin’s brows furrowed and he glanced down to his desk, an open missive lying right before him – seemingly freshly arrived. 

“A friend of mine bestows visit,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “His name is Nile. I suppose you have heard the name whispered among slaves.” 

Levi remembered Isabel’s passing mention of the name – and the weight of sinful trysts attached to it. “I have heard of this man, yes.”

Erwin’s frown only seemed to deepen, now etched into his fine features as if they were marble. 

“Then you have heard of his… inclinations. Considering your sudden interest in whoring yourself out to every Roman in sight,” Levi flinched, and Erwin noted, but did not comment or soften word, “I would caution you against sharing anything but polite word with him.” 

“You call him friend and yet you speak of him as if he were of the underworld,” Levi couldn’t help word. 

“It is not his fault if he is a man who succumbs easily to calls of flesh,” Erwin said. “As a Roman, he has a right to it. It is the slaves such as yourself who should stand aware of whom they’re offering ass to.” 

Levi bit his lip angrily. “Perhaps I should find myself otherwise engaged that night, _domine._ If you do not trust me to keep cock in _subjugaylia_.” 

Erwin let out a dry chuckle. “Nile has requested that you greet him personally upon entry of _ludus_. To charm the champion, that is his objective for the night. He carries no understanding of the fact that the champion himself excels in spreading legs as much as he does on the sands.” 

The sting of Erwin’s words fell hard upon heart. 

“Then I shall be the perfect picture of servile chastity, _domine_ ,” he said. “Perhaps then you shall see myself as something more than just a whore.” 

“You have chosen to present yourself as such,” Erwin said sharply. “I saw but a champion.” 

“Perhaps you should offer other suggestion to your eyes,” Levi said quietly, stepping back, ready to flee. 

“Your meaning?” 

“Perhaps I do not simply want to be a champion for you.” 

Their eyes met. 

“Whom would you stand as?” Erwin’s voice seemed unlike his own – croaking, breaking, as ancient floorboards beneath feet. His eyes were soft, a strange air of vulnerability to them, a glint that seemed to be too much to pose on a face like his, etched in stone. 

“Someone…” Levi gulped, feeling his nervousness erect a barrier within his throat. He took another breath, to calm tone, and instead found himself choking on the words. “Someone of greater worth to you.” 

Erwin’s gaze was swiftly becoming unbearable, yet Levi could not look away. It was as if he were staring at those hailed Roman gods themselves, bright, as if the sun in the sky, burning his eyes – all the while urging him to look on. 

He watched as Erwin stood from his seat and leaned over his desk, the amphora of wine and their two cups forgotten between them. Just a desk. It was simply a desk. Yet it proved harder to cross than the Vesuvius itself. Levi stood still, perhaps having even forgotten to draw breath as he feared dispelling the moment. 

“What if… I were to say that you already stand as such?” 

His _dominus_ ’ words fell as balsam on wounded heart. It was a kindness that Levi was afraid to accept – for it seemed not of this world to him. Kindness was not something he was accustomed to – he was but a slave, a prisoner, a killer in the stead of his master. He could not afford happiness for he had no coin of his own; neither will. 

“I am… a man of few joys,” he found himself saying. “I would–,” 

“Proof?” Erwin asked, suddenly a new gleam of purpose to his gaze. They were but a hair’s width away from each other. Levi could taste the honeyed wine on his master’s breath. It seemed far more intoxicating than the drink itself. “You have the audacity to request proof?” 

“You… value my audacity, do you not, _domine_?” 

He was sure his tongue would be parted from his body for such strong words – and instead he found it meeting Erwin’s in a clash of mouths. All wrong, it was all wrong: the angle at which their lips connected, the pace, the difference that stood between them in height. He did not want to right it, though, for breaking the lip-lock would be a sure way towards denying this had ever occurred. Instead, though, Erwin saved him from dilemma, puling away for but a split moment before rearranging their faces and plunging in for a deeper kiss. 

The desk separating them suddenly seemed no barrier at all. Pulled by his forearms by Erwin’s strong hands, Levi was placed on his back on top of his _dominus’_ papers, eyes wide as Erwin straddled him, pupils wide with awakened passion. His mouth panted out breaths and Levi caught it again, breathing the man’s air as his own. 

“Tell me you do not wish this,” Erwin breathed into the kiss, posing above his slave. “Say the word and I shall stop and we shall not return to this.” 

“One would have more luck returning from the shores of the afterlife,” Levi said quietly, his eyes searching Erwin’s face for doubts. There were many; and yet his kiss tasted just as sweet as it had been in the initial moment of passion. 

Levi’s garb fell to the floor, soon to be followed by that of his _dominus_. Without fine silks and cottons to clothe his figure, Erwin stood impressive as a Titan – all lean muscle and golden skill, so unlike that of other Romans who favored porcelain complexions and avoided the sun as if it were Pluto’s flame of death. Levi’s hands were pinned above his head on top of the desk and Erwin’s mouth took to his neck, kissing, licking, sucking on the skin there, overriding the marks left by previous suitors easily. 

An unbidden moan escaped the slave’s lips and he thrust his hips upward, cock meeting Erwin’s. The Roman slammed his hips down in response, causing Levi to shudder. 

“You have thought of this, have you not?” Erwin asked quietly. His teeth found Levi’s earlobe and toyed with it mercilessly, pulling and nibbling at the tender skin. 

“Yes, _domine!_ ” Levi whispered, mortified at his own base reactions. Fucking Erwin was unlike fucking any other Roman: he stood again a blushing virgin beneath this powerful man, the man who had uncovered his talent in the arena and watched him grow into a warrior. 

“You have stroked yourself beneath the moonlight, thinking of my hands upon you?” 

“Moonlight… and sunlight…” Levi admitted shamelessly, closing his eyes at the onslaught of sensation. No inexperienced Roman pup could tear control from him as such, and no other soul ever would. 

“I have watched you fight,” Erwin said, finally relenting and looking Levi in the face, cheeks flushed with desire. “The most exotic dance I have seen in my time.” 

“I would dance but for you,” Levi whispered, mastering up the courage to cup Erwin’s face with hand. “Just for you, _domine_.” 

“My name,” Erwin said gently. “I would have your lips spill my name as I claim what is mine.” 

“Erwin,” the slave whispered for the first time, the name foreign on his lips as he submitted to the prying of Erwin’s fingers, smeared with their juices. He gasped when one digit penetrated him for the first time and Erwin paused, seemingly concerned. Nobody had ever been concerned. 

“You hurt?” He asked. Levi did not want to let the opportunity slip from fingers, and he shook his head. 

“I am but disbelieving,” he said. “That you would–,” 

“Strike thought from troubled mind,” Erwin said gently, reaching for the olive oil left behind on his plate from breakfast. He spread it over his fingers, inching them down once more. “I would not have you doubt my intentions toward you, Minutus.” 

“If I am to call your true name,” Levi panted, “then I would ask the same of you.”

“Levi,” Erwin whispered reverently, breath ghosting over his slave’s nipple before he closed his teeth around it, pulling another cry from the smaller man. 

“Again,” the gladiator panted, hips jerking as Erwin worked him open in preparation. 

“Levi.” 

Erwin’s hips against his. 

“Levi.” 

The burn of the initial breach.

“Levi.” 

Erwin sliding into his ass as if it were home. 

“Levi.” 

Nails leaving long trails across the Roman’s back. 

“Levi.” 

A moment of bliss as Erwin’s cock pressed against a spot that saw Levi to Olympus. 

“Levi.” 

“ _Erwin!_ ” 

Their names echoed across Erwin’s chambers long after completion, caught in the air together with the smell of sweat, of wine, of breath, and of sex. A smell that Levi would forever now associate with the man he had come to cherish. 

“Erwin.” 


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes, this was written on a beach lol.
> 
> Beautiful art for this chapter made by [kayaczek.](http://kayaczek.tumblr.com/)

Softness. Incredible softness. Levi understood not how he had been in able to associate his _dominus_ with such a sensation. On the arena, the sands moistened with blood and sweat, Levi stood strong as a Titan, with swords clutched in hands, his eyes fixed on the ultimate outcome of survival. Here, lying on the floor beneath his master's desk in the embrace of the man who had reached out to him and offered him such solace, he could allow himself to be vulnerable. He had never stood vulnerable: from the moment the Romans had destroyed the way of life his people had enjoyed for centuries, he had hardened himself to become but a statue.

He found he could not be a statue in the arms of Erwin Artifax, curled around him in comforting embrace, his head perched on the man's chest over his heart, legs tangled in affection. He had lost count of the hours that had passed since their passions had ignited, spilling over and revealing themselves in base act of pleasure. Time stood of no significance to him as Erwin's deft fingers carded through his hair, his breath moving it as he spoke quietly in a voice reserved for tenderness.

"Venus herself would envy your form, Levi."

The gladiator let out a quiet laugh.

"You stand delusional. And sacrilegious."

Erwin's breath was warm as he laughed as well.

"If I were to tell but the truth, I would confess I never held much regard for the gods," he said quietly. "Their actions seem most inconvenient at times – such that gods would not commit were they reasonable... Or existent."

Levi raised a lazy eyebrow. "You stand a non-believer, then?"

"The only thing deserving of belief is but my own agency," Erwin said. "Blaming one's misgivings on the gods is cowardice."

"The Lord but guides your hand," Levi replied. "At least, that was what my people believed in."

"An all-knowing, benevolent, omnipotent deity?"

Levi nodded against Erwin's chest. "In all things and acts, He chooses to reveal himself in different ways."

"An interesting view," Erwin said, tugging Levi closer yet in his arms. "And do you suppose it is Him who brought you to me?"

Levi closed his eyes. "Of course. It would seem I was destined to become your gladiator."

"And my love."

The smaller man lifted his head off Erwin's chest so that their eyes would meet. "You speak bold words."

He felt shame for the weakness in his voice. The very voice that had spurred curses and obscenities at Romans who had enslaved him, the voice that had roared in victory over the scum of the arena, that very voice appeared feeble when encountered with gentleness. Unfamiliar company.

"I speak but the truth," the blond man replied quietly, blue eyes searching Levi's gaze for acceptance. "I... I understand I have wronged you, yet I would not have you wronged any more. I would love you–,"

"Would you say same words for the others?" Levi asked, cutting him off. Hurt crossed the Roman's face.

"I do not under–,"

"Would you love a slave only for his name? For his body? Would you love another gladiator and promise him security from yourself and the other _domini_?" Words grew stronger as Levi lifted himself into a sitting position to look down upon his master's face. Erwin's handsome features grew vague as they wobbled with uncertainty.

"What say you, Levi?" He asked quietly. "What is the meaning of harsh language?"

"Would you have courted me long ago had I been Roman, not a slave?" Levi demanded quietly. "Would you have offered me hand had I been dressed in finger clothes and spoke with no distortion of Roman tongue?"

"I would love you whichever form you take," Erwin said with a frown marring fine chiseled face. "I do not understand why you bring up matters of slavery."

"Because one day, Erwin, I shall not be enough," Levi replied simply. "I cannot bring fortune to your house but with sword in hand. I cannot bring fame but on the arena. I cannot give you an heir not heighten your status with the patricians. I cannot speak sweet words to the magistrate and grant you office. One day, I will die in the sand, yet another name to be struck from the minds of the hungry crowd. And you shall walk away from the meat of my body like you have done from any other gladiator before me."

Erwin looked away, unable to meet gaze. "You think so lowly of me."

"What I think of you is of no consequence, _domine_ ," Levi replied sadly. He looked outside through the finely decorated window to see the moon hang low over the sky of the _ludus_. "I am but a slave. I belong to you, whatever you choose to do with me. Choose to love me, if you will, but remember that I–,"

"Do you not harbor same affection for me?" Erwin asked. "Did your tongue speak falsely when you came into my chambers this night?"

"I cannot love you," the gladiator said bitterly. "For I would never know whether my feelings were true or simple clinging to the comfort of warming my _dominus'_ bed."

Erwin sat up as well, reaching out to cup Levi's face. "Tell me you do not want my hands upon you and I shall stop. Tell me my touch does not ignite desire in your body, tell me your heart does not seize with sweet feeling with I kiss you lips. Tell me and I shall stop."

Levi looked at him, lost for words, lost for thought, incapable of dissembling his meaning stone by stone as he had done before. His head felt jumbled, confused, almost as if he had partaken in too much wine that night – and yet stood stone cold sober.

"Would you be satisfied loving but a slave?" He whispered, barely audible, his lower lip trembling as he took Erwin's wrists into his hands, his knees painful on the floor, with only Erwin's tunic to cushion the hardness. "Could you ask nothing more of me than to love you in kind?"

"I could not ask for more," the blond said quietly, and captured Levi's lips in sweet kiss, thumbs resting on the boy's cheekbones. "Since I had seen you first, I would not have asked for more."

Levi could not help himself as he gave into the embrace, kissing Erwin back with equal force. He straddled Erwin's hips, arms around his neck as he deepened their lip-lock, tasting the blond man, moaning into his mouth, drinking in the man's own whispered declarations of pleasure. He threw his head back when he felt the man slide home, taking him deep and slow, savoring the comfort of Levi's body as he thrust inside, his pace erratic, lacking rhythm, lacking all but a deep conviction and the desire to please.

* * *

At nightfall the next day, Levi found himself standing in the main room of the villa, feeling quite a bit like a decorated peacock. After he had left his _dominus'_ chambers, limping a little yet happy beyond all measure, he had bumped into Isabel whose knowing glance had been cut short by more pressing matters – the readying of the gladiators for the viewing by Nile of Rome himself. The man was notorious for preferring stark decoration and ostentatious taste, and so Levi had been scrubbed within an inch of his life by the _ludus_ slaves, none of whom had had the gall to inquire as to the origins of Levi's new bruises and love bites. Then his hair had been cut and combed, his entire body oiled and sprinkled with golden dust, so fine it had made him sneeze.

He stood along with the other gladiators in a line, all donning masks of various Roman deities. The fine men and women in attendance were far less interested in the wine and the master of the villa himself – their eyes were set upon the near-naked men who stood still as statues as they were ogled by the guests.

From time to time, Levi would catch Erwin's eye and the man would grant him a small smile – something that was called to lend support, no doubt; and yet all Levi felt was incredible longing. To occupy his thoughts and prevent himself from saddening – and worse yet, from his _subjugaylia_ giving away the state of his arousal upon memory of night prior, Levi turned his eyes toward the guest of honor.

Nile was not the man Levi had imagined. He stood tall, and yet there was a sickly air to him, especially when compared with Erwin whose golden complexion and rosy lips bustled with health. He was also much thinner than the host – it seemed Erwin stood alone amongst his Roman friends who readily and regularly engaged in exercise. It was a wonder an army comprised of such unfit men had managed to conquer the land it had. When Nile spoke, the people around him listened raptly, and when he walked away, they followed as if flies on a horse. Erwin himself had welcomed the man with an embrace; yet he had not submitted to the will of the crowd, standing aside from the fawning mass of perfumed men and women who seemed to cling to Nile's every utterance. Finally, Nile had descended from his pedestal long enough to cast a look at the gladiators. Silence fell as he stepped closer, his hand on Reiner's chest, marring the golden sheen.

"A fine lineup, Erwin," he said with a sneer. "Your men stand of a form."

"The finest in Neapolis," Erwin replied to general approval and murmuring. Nile nodded, almost dismissively, and proceeded down the line, not even stopping as he touched every single man on display in a proprietary fashion that turned Levi's stomach.

He halted in front of Levi, looking down at him with a smile of an animal. "I have heard of this one, have I not? The shortest gladiator to date."

Erwin was a master of disguise, Levi decided, as the man did not even bat an eyelash at his friend's boldness. "This is Minutus, my most recent and thus far best investment."

"He stands behind the mask of Apollo," Nile murmured, placing his finger beneath the mask's chin and lifting it off Levi's face. The mask clattered to the floor and Levi felt the man's fingers on his skin, turning his head to inspect him as if he were a horse. He grit his teeth. _For Erwin_. "Yet there is no need for disguise. His body is that of a warrior, yet his face is that of a nymph."

Levi breathed through his nose, his muscles rigid as he withstood the man's words, his wine-sweetened breath on his face, his touch, the touch that by Erwin's hand had felt so sweet, and now but made him feel sick to his stomach.

"He is a pretty one, is he not?" Nile asked, the question tossed carelessly at the crowd. They murmured approvingly, eyes glinting as sinister jewels in the darkened room. "I have a pretty one of my own."

He snapped his fingers and a slave whose presence had not been noticed appeared at his side. He was quite tall, blond, yet of a different hue to Erwin's, and his face was a blank mask of servitude. He seemed a perfect statue.

"This is Farlan. Captured east of the Rhine, as some of yours have been. He is no warrior, yet pretty face an ready ass do make him an invaluable accessory," Nile said, prompting laughs from the guests. He turned back to look at Levi. "He has a nice cock as well."

A chill ran down Levi's spine as he kept his eyes down, fists clenched. He ventured a glance at Erwin whose calm face had given way to something more anxious – and yet he said nothing.

"Gladiators are masters at putting on displays, are they not?" Nile asked, and with that, pushed Farlan right into Levi, making both of them stumble. The two young men's confused gazes served to humor the guests, snickers spreading across the room.

"Fuck him," Nile told Farlan. His smile was mocking as he glanced upon Levi's stricken face. "Rumor has it he enjoys it quite a bit. I am sure a slave's cock would do as well for him as a Roman's."

While Farlan nodded obediently, lips shaking and eyes full of unshed tears, Levi looked nowhere but at Erwin. The man was as if carved of stone, mouth parted, fingers tense.

"Erwin?" Nile asked, his voice petulant. "You promised entertainment and I assure you, there is none more so than watching two beasts fuck."

Levi knew Erwin's reply before the man's lips spilled it. Betrayal felt like a stab to the stomach as Erwin's apologetic eyes found his and his mouth formed the words, "Very well, then."


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally managed to choke up this chapter after three days of mourning for the best Commander in the history of the Survey Corps. So, naturally, this chapter is for Erwin Smith.

Levi’s grey eyes were as steel as they fixed on Erwin’s across the hall. His _dominus_ stood a statue among the enthusiastic guests of this farce of a social visit, his face a perfect opposite to the excitement marking theirs.

“Well then, splendid!” Nile clapped his hands in front of his chest and then pushed Farlan even closer towards Levi who stood, spellbound by his master’s face. It seemed the man’s touch was still fresh on his skin and yet there Levi was, offered up to this well-smelling crowd as a token of his servitude to the great Republic of Rome.

Bile rose in his throat when he finally tore his gaze away from his _dominus_ and met the eyes of the boy who was meant to bed him for viewing pleasure. He was but a boy. Even if he stood as old as Levi was, he had not seen life, not as Levi had seen it; not as many men and women in this room had seen it. He was a pampered body slave, a pretty picture to see and fuck whenever his _dominus_ grew weary of his wife’s cunt.

Farlan’s fingers reached out tentatively and brushed Levi’s bare chest, as if he were requesting permission. Levi did not hesitate in bringing him closer, tugging on his wrist and meshing their lips together in a kiss whose taste felt sour and whose feeling was wrong, so wrong it burnt Levi all the way in his chest, somewhere around his wildly beating heart.

He could feel Erwin’s eyes burning holes through his skin as he partook in the sweetness of Farlan’s mouth – the boy had been doused with wine prior to this, and he tasted of grapes and sin. Levi mapped his lips out with his own, he took and took tasteful drink, milking it from the creases of the boy’s mouth. “Your animal stands well enthused,” Nile said loudly, addressing not Erwin but all in attendance. They tittered in response, sipping drink as they laughed, leered, and slipped their hands down their own togas, beneath layered fabric, to fully enjoy the moment of Levi and Farlan’s coupling.

 _Let them see. Let their eyes see and feast on this, and let them all rot in the underworld,_ Levi thought to himself as Farlan backed him against the dais, pressing on chest to place Levi’s back against hard stone. Levi lay as sacrifice, eyes unseeing, as his meager clothing was taken from him, peeled away by skillful hands – with movements created for show, for spectacle. Farlan stood a wonderful body slave indeed. Yet Levi could nary feel his touches – his gaze was locked with Erwin’s.

He remembered the way the man’s hand had revered him, almost as if he had been a good himself; how he had taken Levi’s lips in fervent kiss, how he had delved into his body, eliciting broken, inhuman sounds from the man he had made his property. He remembered tenderness in Erwin’s voice, the way he had spoken to him, not at all as he had spoken to his guests.

Yet he could not erase bitterness of what was about to occur with sweetness of memory. Erwin had made choice – and Levi lay powerless, bound by chains of servitude, completely at mercy of the men and women Erwin called his companions.

Levi would never stand among them.

He would never walk at Erwin’s shoulder.

His place was here, on stone slab, or in the arena – he was but a show horse of Erwin’s. No amount of love, or words, or petty promises were able to change the notion.

Levi’s throat stung, yet he hung on, clinging to Farlan’s hands as they touched him. The boy’s eyes were pure with desire to please – yet Levi could not see whom he aimed to please more, him, the offering presented for show, or the onlookers whose greedy eyes shone as black gemstones.

His legs were spread and a warm mouth enveloped his cock. He sighed contently when he felt the tight ring of Farlan’s lips become even tighter – with eyes closed, he could fancy Erwin stood not among the crowd, watching him become one with a man forced on him but that it was Erwin who granted tender fiery touch to skin. That it was Erwin, his _dominus_ , the man who had given him new life, pressing him against stone.

It stood to reason that Erwin would not lower himself to congress with a man like himself – yet he had done so, he had partaken in the flavor of Levi’s body, a slave’s body, the body of a man whose sole purpose lay in killing for sport. For amusement.

Even so, despite his tender touches, Erwin stood a monolith as Farlan’s mouth worked on eliciting pleasured sounds from the gladiator.

Levi found himself pulling the boy upwards by his hair. “Enough.”

Farlan’s young forehead was marred by a frown, yet he heeded Levi’s words. He sat up on the slab and turned towards his master who leered at the two of them from his perch, surrounded by fawning slaves and Romans alike. Nile was a powerful man – a decorated leader of the Roman Army, he had taken many cities belonging to insubordinate peoples. He had brought enough slaves to the Republic to justify a hefty collection of his own. The ones in attendance, who were careful to not allow his cup to run dry of wine, were very beautiful. Nile obviously adored delicate little things – among both women and men alike, all stood slender, with thin wrists and faces of nymphs. Farlan, though he was taller than most, still held that quality – Levi deduced he was fearful his master would lose interest in him as he grew older. An old body slave was no pleasure to look at and no pleasure to partake in. Most ended their lives in the mines, whilst others were demoted and replaced by younger specimens. They would never see the inside of their masters’ chambers. The most they could hope for was the stable or the kitchen.

“How would you like me to take him, _domine_?” Farlan asked dutifully, his voice hardly a whisper at all. His master seemed pleased with such deference, and he nodded at Levi whose eyes burned with hatred against closed lids.

“He is much like a beast; wouldn’t you say?” He asked, a rhetorical question at best; yet the men and women in attendance murmured in assent. His serpentine smile took on a more bloodthirsty hue.

“Take him on all fours. I would like to see him grovel like a bitch in heat,” he commanded, crossing his legs and leaning back against the plush cushions. Levi’s eyes opened to fall on Erwin’s face. Never before had he seen his _dominus_ so differently – the man was but a statue, with bulging veins on forehead and neck, eyes set and hard, his mouth a fine line. His nostrils flared with anger, his fists clutched at the fabric of his clothing.

The dark-haired slave chanced a spasm of mouth that could have been received as a smile.

Betrayal or not, Erwin was in no position to refuse Nile his caprice. Levi was a man with the reputation of a whore. This would be no skin off his back.

He raised himself up on hands and knees as gracefully as a man in his predicament could. He felt Farlan’s presence behind him. He felt the slickness of olive oil against his entrance as the boy prepared him. He supposed it could have been worse – Nile could have demanded no preparation be made.

He would not be thankful.

Farlan’s fingers coaxed him open and Levi found himself drifting off into thought. How strange it was, that two men’s fingers could be so different. Farlan’s were slender, with knobby knuckles and very shortly cut nails. Erwin’s were more robust, longer and thicker and more calloused from the use of sword in days gone by.

His philosophical musings were interrupted when he felt the head of Farlan’s cock press against him. He exhaled, closing his eyes and bearing down.

This was a spectacle, he reminded himself. One had to be technical. One had to be correct. One had to be on display.

So, as soon as Farlan pushed into his body in one smooth motion, Levi threw his head back and moaned in the lewdest manner possible. It seemed to be the right choice – the audience sat up straighter, leaning in to watch the two slaves with interest. The only one who remained unmoving was Levi’s _dominus_. Unable to look him in the eye, Levi turned away.

Farlan was an accomplished body slave. He moved his hips expertly, making fire erupt in the pit of Levi’s stomach. There was no emotion to this, no feeling – but it was pleasurable enough for Levi to be able to hold on to. He could make this pretense into truth for those who cared for it.

He panted and moaned and bit his lip, arching his back and throwing his head back sensually to expose the pallor of his neck. He heard approving words and lewd commentary. He allowed it to wash over him, to engulf him as water would, he made himself hoarse with the artifice of his pleasure, and when he felt his release approach, he reached behind himself and pulled Farlan by his blond locks, drawing him deeper into his body as he spilled himself onto the stone.

Somewhere among the haze of his shame, he felt Farlan spend his cock into his body. The blond did not do as a lover would, he did not slump on top of Levi, waiting to catch his breath. He pulled out and raised himself to his feet without hesitation. The only indication of what he had just done was the faint blush on his cheeks.

Levi forced himself up as well to see drunken Roman eyes rake over his soiled skin.

“A fine display,” Nile said with a flourish. He stepped forward, motioning for Levi to come closer. Suddenly aware of his nudity, the slave walked hesitantly towards the man. Long, arachnid fingers, sticky with sweetmeats and wine, forced his chin up.

“A fine display indeed,” the Roman said, inspecting Levi’s face closely. The gladiator kept himself rigidly still. _A little left, only a little left,_ he thought desperately, wishing to be sent on his way.

“Perhaps I should borrow you for the night. I’m sure Erwin would not mind.”

Levi’s heart jolted in his chest, legs ready to run wherever he could, wherever they would take him.

“Actually, Nile, I really _do_ mind.”

Relief flooded Levi, so potent his knees almost buckled. Nile turned towards Erwin who was calmly approaching them, a picture of perfect composure.

“Levi has an important battle to prepare for, the day after tomorrow,” Erwin said calmly. Levi was struck by how different he was in comparison to his so-called friend. He was a rock, a piece of marble, a statue of a Titan, all dignity. Nile, on the other hand, resembled a skittish mutt – flashy, all bark yet no bite.

“Is that so?”

The two men seemed to engage in a staring match until finally, _finally_ Nile’s fingers left Levi’s face.

“Be on your way, then.”

Levi bowed to the two of them as low as he could and retreated into the bowels of the villa, with crescent-shaped wounds on the palms of his hands.


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, a new chapter so soon? Still in very productive mourning over Erwin's death. This chapter is going to be mainly conversation with some smut involved.

“Levi?”

The slave looked up from his task. He had come to his cell and collapsed onto his meager cot with a sigh. He wanted to pretend that Farlan’s attentions had made him feel _dirty_ , and yet, all he felt was a strange sort of emptiness. As if nothing had happened.

It unsettled him.

“One wonders what the _dominus_ of the villa would do in a slave’s quarters,” he said quietly, glancing at Erwin wryly. The man stood a solid rock in the doorway of his cell, one hand on the wall, the other gripping a small _amphora_ of wine. He stepped inside, seemingly ill at ease.

“I have come to see how you fare,” he said stiffly, his eyes raking over Levi’s bare skin. “And to apologize for the wrong I have done you tonight.”

Levi let out a small chuckle. “Apologies do not become a man of your standing, _domine_.”

He felt Erwin’s presence approach. The man stopped a bare minimum of space between them, without touching Levi. _Respecting_ his personal space, perhaps? The notion was laughable, after tonight’s display.

“Yet I would offer them nevertheless,” Erwin said. Levi attempted not to look him in the eye, yet he was inevitably drawn to the blue.

“You have done me no wrong,” Levi said with a shrug, finally succeeding in eyeing the floor. “You have done right as a master.”

“Not as a lover.”

Levi rolled his eyes inwardly. “You speak bold words of whose meaning you may not be sure, _domine_.”

“What?”

It entertained Levi to see Erwin’s face go blank with lack of understanding.

“This is precisely that of which I warned you the night you bed me,” the slave said, sitting down on his cot. He looked up at Erwin and touched the collar at his throat. “We cannot count as lovers, with a rift between us the size of decades of servitude.”

“You would have me suppress my feelings?” Erwin asked boldly.

“I would have you be reasonable,” Levi said shortly. “And spare yourself the heartache of watching me fuck men other than yourself for entertainment of your guests.”

Erwin flinched. “Levi, tonight’s happenings were-,”

“One of the luxuries of being a _patrician, domine,_ is that you do not have to explain yourself to a slave,” Levi replied shortly. Erwin sighed with exasperation marring his chiseled features.

“What would you have me do, Levi? I could not have refused Nile. He hails from Rome, a decorated soldier of the Republic, he has standing and means beyond those I possess even with the numerous victories you have brought to this _ludus_.”

“It is a grotesque sort of humor that you employ, seeking pardon of a slave,” Levi replied. “Once again, _domine_ , you are free to do with me as you choose. A rare tumble in your quarters should not change your view of me.”

“And what if it did?” Levi closed his eyes against the hollowness in his chest. Erwin’s visage was far to earnest for him to bear, thus he turned to look through the bars on his window.

“Then I would advise you to strike troubled thought from mind and never return to its contemplation.”

“You would have me not touch you, after the night we spent together?” Erwin asked, taking a step closer. Levi shrank away and the Roman stopped, his hand poised in mid-air, almost about to touch.

“Do what you will with me, _domine_. Yet do not seek retribution for dispensing me as you please,” Levi said. For some reason, it felt as though he was the master here, punishing the Roman for having been so naïve as to think anything between them would change. Levi had warned the man yet his warning had gone unheard, lost in Erwin’s passionate mind.

The slave stood up, finally facing his master. He inspected the suddenly tired lines on Erwin’s face – he realized that the man was perhaps older than he had seemed in daylight. There was something heavy weighing on his shoulders. Something Levi was incapable of lifting, even with all his strength.

“I am your property,” he said quietly, daring not touch Erwin’s face even as his cheek seemed fit to cup and caress with deft fingers. “You shall do with me as you will. If your position commands it, I will fuck a slave, a soldier, the gods themselves, if needs be. I only request of you that you do not let it burden your heart.”

“How can it not?” Erwin asked bitterly. “You are so much more than a slave.”

Levi lifted an eyebrow. “Treat me as you would treat others, regardless of what you may feel for me. Though my _dominus_ is wise most times, he stands wrong in this. I am nothing but a slave.”

“Levi, what if I told you… my resolution not to love again seems to have been shaken?” Erwin asked. His face seemed almost feverish. Levi shook his head.

“I am not deserving of such sentiment. Please love someone who is.”

“If you do not let me love you,” Erwin began, reaching out to take Levi by the wrist tentatively, almost as if he were afraid to spook the younger man. “Would you at least allow me to enjoy the touch of your body?”

Levi’s expression softened. “You need not ask, _domine_.”

***

It was strange, lying like this, tangled together, among luxurious silks and furs and cottons and linens, beneath a canopy. The oil from Levi’s skin had been put to good use and the golden dust that had been layered on his skin was now marred with the imprints of his master’s finger tips.

It would have been easy to give in. To allow Erwin to profess his feelings. To respond in kind and submit himself to pampering of favored slave. And then, another social gathering would come, and once more Erwin would be forced to bend Levi to the will of the capricious masters of this Republic. He would once more feel guilt and jealousy. Levi would once more feel betrayal.

No. The heartache would pass. Levi was better off as a slave than a lover, never to be equal to the one that held his heart.

“My mother was a slave.”

That startled him out of his thoughts. Levi propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand on Erwin’s chest.

“Pardon?”

“My father’s Roman wife had been unable to conceive,” Erwin said quietly, glancing at Levi with unhappy humor in his eyes. “Yet position demanded a child, thus he found a slave who would look similar to the woman he had married. The deed needed but one repetition – on the second night of him taking her, I was conceived.”

“What… what happened to her afterward?” Levi asked, gulping nervously. This admission of Erwin’s suddenly struck him as far too intimate. He was not deserving of such insight. He supposed Erwin had volunteered this information because he’d thought it would serve to make Levi feel closer to him.

It did not.

It only filled Levi’s belly with dread.

“She stayed at the villa until she became of no use as a body slave. I, of course, did not know she was my mother until the gates closed behind the cart that took her to the mines,” Erwin replied, his voice a forced tone of calmness. “My Roman mother was… cold to me. This slave, she… showed an abnormal amount of affection for her young _dominus_. It irritated the Roman woman. She would beat her for seemingly no offence done. It was as though she was jealous, and yet… she never made the effort to try and act towards me as a real mother would. The woman who birthed me raised me, and yet I did not now until her death warrant had been signed.”

Tentatively, Levi reached out to place a hand on Erwin’s chest. He could not offer affection, but he could at least offer comfort.

“What was her name?”

Erwin’s eyes found Levi’s and for a moment there was pain in them, almost as if he begged Levi to rescind his inquiry.

“My father called her Aurelia, for her fair hair. I do not know what her people had called her before she had become a slave at our villa.”

Levi nodded, allowing silence to slip around them once more in the form of a comforting blanket.

 “My mother… was different,” he ventured quietly, once half the candle had burnt down.

“She was a free woman, until the Romans had taken our village. Yet… she was poor. Not free to choose what kind of work she did, she turned to her brother for help. He… recommended her to the rich men of the surrounding area. My father, unknown as he is, was one of them,” he said delicately. Then he laughed. “Your good manners are beginning to rub off on me, _domine_. My mother was a whore, that’s what she was.”

Erwin didn’t say anything, anticipating Levi to continue.

“Yet she was a kind whore. Even as she returned every day, worn out, her legs shaking with tiredness, and a small loaf of bread to break for dinner, she would dedicate her time to me,” Levi said quietly. “She would… teach me songs and poems of our people, she would have me pray to the Lord, she… attempted to make me into a man worthy of good company.”

“She took ill a moon before the Romans came and destroyed what was left of our dying village. They took her away, I suspect, to the mines, and that is the last I saw of my mother.”

Erwin hummed. Levi was grateful that the man did not attempt to offer compassionate words. He did not know what it was like to be raised by a single person who mattered most. Who _had_ mattered most. And who had been taken from him in one fell swoop.

“What was her name?”

“Pardon?”

“Her name. I would ask her name,” Erwin repeated patiently, as if Levi were particularly slow of mind. The slave turned the question over in his head, and finally decided it was safe enough to tell his _dominus_ this much.

“Kuchel.”

“Kuchel,” Erwin repeated the foreign name. Some silence passed between them. “Whatever happened to her brother, your uncle?”

Levi’s expression darkened. “He was taken by the Romans as well. I hope he suffered a most painful demise.”

“No love lost between the two of you, then?” Erwin asked. Levi’s mouth suffered a spasmodic smile.

“None,” he said. “He was a bully and a thief. He murdered people for coin, he stole and robbed and raped. He was not a good man.”

“You speak of him as one would speak of a Roman soldier.”

“He would have done well among your ranks,” Levi said bitingly, daring to be vicious towards the man who had once been part of the chimera that had extended itself all over his homeland.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you, Levi.”

The slave sighed and then straddled Erwin once more, slipping his body onto Erwin’s cock. The blond man’s eyes widened.

“It is not your place to be sorry. Now fuck me like you said you would.”


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I just finished my move to the Netherlands for my master's degree so I was running around like a chicken for the best part of the past several weeks. Well, here it is!

Somehow, they had moved on. Slowly yet steadily, the night they had shared in the voyeuristic pleasure of the Roman Nile seemed to fade from their memories, giving way to more pressing matters; those being various tournaments Levi participated in due to his rise in popularity. He imagined he had become an even more valued commodity among those of high status – as they have seen him close enough to inspect the finer qualities a man could possess besides brawn and cunning within battle.

Nevertheless, his popularity had also begun to draw unwanted attention. Somehow, rumors of his exhibitionistic tryst with Farlan had spread: now even the gladiators would sneer at him and make obscene noises imitating kissing towards him whenever he passed by the cells. They refused to hold conversation – at least, those that were not of the house of Artifax. Those belonging to Erwin had remained loyal, if not a little weary of Levi’s presence. It frustrated him; and yet, he knew that this was the true life of a champion: battles, rumors, orgies in the presence of those who paid to see his very flesh flayed from his back.  

Sometime during the seventh month, the mood within the city of Neapolis begun to change. Whispers among the slaves, whispers everywhere followed Levi on his rare outings to town. He could feel Mike’s looming presence behind him, his back rigid, eyes sharp. Though the man was unreadable at most instances, now it was clear something unsettled him greatly. Levi dared not ask, and Mike did not divulge. Perhaps they would just ignore it for the time being. Perhaps that would be easier than to wait on a cataclysm to strike.

Strike it did.

Within the next month, there came news of neighboring villas being pillaged and overtaken by slaves. The very same slaves who had used to pour wine and line beds of Romans with soft bodies; and, more importantly, the very same slaves who had fought in the arena to amuse their masters, those slaves had rebelled. It had started in Capua, or so Levi had heard from a tavern whore, and soon spread over to the coast, past Vesuvius. How the rebels had managed to traverse perilous grounds remained a mystery – as was motive of their actions. Levi did not comprehend _why_ they would want to take power in Rome. Power would bring them nothing but death and desolation – if they were ever to reach this far. Rome’s legions were counted in hundreds of thousands while rebel leaders had between them a couple thousand people at most, including the old, the sick, women and children who would be unable to even lift sword. The affair seemed absurd.

Slaves from all villas within the greater area of Neapolis whispered among themselves of rebellion. Perhaps in jest, perhaps not – but as the rebels drew closer to Erwin’s villa, Levi’s sleeping hours waned to nothing.

Erwin himself was not blissfully ignorant of the occurrences within the city. More often than not, after laying with Levi, he would talk of the possibilities of the slaves’ movements. Levi would listen to him, turned onto his side, eyes fixed on Erwin’s handsome features. Features that half belonged to slaves as well.

After their conversation over the events commemorating Nile’s arrival, they remained strangely distant from each other – their lovemaking, or rather, fucking, remained unfollowed by embrace. As soon as it was over, they would give each other their mutual space.

Even as Levi’s chest ached, he refused to believe this was not the best thing to do. Erwin was too tactile for his own good. Sometimes, in throes of passion, he would cup Levi’s face and gaze up at him, or down at him, and his eyes would become as crystalline sea. Levi could not stand those eyes.

Yet, even as mind told heart it would not allow feelings to cloud his judgement – and his bond to Erwin as slave to master, Levi continued to vow to himself each night he would protect the man until his dying breath. He was a dog, perhaps, with such blind loyalty; yet he was also a man – a man of principle and gratitude.

“What think you, Levi?”

“Hm?” Levi’s thoughts took turn to present, and he found himself blushing quite sheepishly at the faint admonishment on Erwin’s face.

“You did not hear a single word spoken?”

“Apologies,” Levi sighed, turning over onto his back. He examined the fine fresco overhead. Erwin and him had somehow found themselves on the floor of the master’s chambers, bare save for the white cotton sheets pooling around their nether regions and preserving what was left of their modesty.

“What plagues mind?” Erwin inquired, leaning over the slave’s form. Levi made a face as Erwin’s head blocked light from the only small oil lamp in the room.

“Events of days past, _domine_ ,” Levi replied, stretching his back slightly as he arched it off the floor. He found Erwin’s gaze following the movement of his muscles and chuckled, readily amused by the man’s attentions.

“The rebellion?” Erwin asked. Levi responded with nodding. “You do not suppose someone as you would feel inclined to join their ranks?”

Levi’s eyes widened in surprise. “You should not ever ask me such a thing. It would stand to reason I would not abandon this _ludus_. Not for naïve promises of so-called freedom, nor revenge.”

“You would not seek to join with like-minded people?” Erwin asked, seemingly never having considered such possibility. Levi could do nothing but roll his eyes at the man whose wisdom, at times, converted him into an innocent child.

“They are not like-minded to my person. Nor are they like-bodied. Nor are they anything related to what and who I have become. We all bear marks of slavery, perhaps; but there would be no Levi had there been no Erwin,” he replied quietly. “My loyalty lies with you, for as long as you would want me.”

“Of course I want you, Levi,” the blond man replied, stretching out his hand for Levi to take. The slave hesitated for a moment, as this was against the rigid regulations he had set for their relationship. Yet, he was a man of impulse and action; therefore, he reached out and twined his fingers with Erwin’s gently.

“Do you suppose they have chance?” Levi asked. Erwin glanced at him with a heavy sigh.

“They are outnumbered by legions. Most do not possess formal training nor discipline.”

“That is not what I asked,” Levi pointed out. Erwin’s mouth twitched in amusement.

“There is always a possibility of turning tables,” he finally replied, looking up at the fresco as well. “Though I cannot see how they would accomplish such a feat.”

“I am of like mind,” Levi said, leaning back to observe the ceiling. Erwin smiled wistfully.

“My mother painted this,” he confessed quietly. Levi’s eyes widened with surprise. He was well on the way to questioning Erwin about her merits as an artist when the doors were slammed open, causing them both to sit up, slightly undignified in their nakedness. One of Erwin’s guards, the men from his legion, staggered inside, his eyes wild with fear of what was unknown to them.

A spear stuck out through his chest.

He fell to the floor, mouth open.

Levi did not know which one of them moved first, yet within mere moments, they had scrambled into their tunics and were running out the door, with nary a glance spared at the poor bastard lining Erwin’s fine floor with blood. The courtyard of the villa was in chaos – there were men, strange men in wild attire, running about with rudimentary weapons and some stolen Roman swords, swinging them at the innocents of the household. Erwin made to run towards them, with every intention of intervening, yet Levi held him back, his hands firmly tangled in the man’s clothing.

“No,” he whispered, eyes pleading. Somehow, Erwin understood. He did not have to die today. He had to sacrifice certain things, certain people, in order to survive this massacre.

They stole out of the villa through a hidden passageway and into the woods, where they encountered Mike, Hanji and Nanaba, all in similar states of alarm. Nanaba half-carried a broken figure, and with horror Levi realized it was Isabel, sweet, humorous Isabel, with a wound slashed across her features. That alone caused him to rethink – the only reason holding him back was Erwin’s steady presence at his side.

As they ran, they scattered whatever they had managed to collect on their way out of the villa: coins, trinkets, anything which could have served as currency, they lost, as life seemed to take precedence over comfort. Finally, the six of them were slumped in a cave, shivering with the wind as it wailed – Levi was reminded of the cries he had heard in the villa, echoes of anguish ringing in his ears.

Erwin’s arm provided steady comfort, if not warmth. They spent the night hushed, all of them, nary a word between them. Levi’s eyes hardly left Erwin’s face, which stood as carved from marble, hard, jawline working, veins over his forehead. They could not return home – it was quite certainly overtaken by the rebellious slaves.

Morning found them along with a rude awakening from their trance – shuffling outside the cave. Sandaled feet. Without another thought, Levi reached for Erwin’s tunic and ripped it violently and swiftly, smearing grimed over the man’s body.

The footfalls came to a halt.

“Who might you be?”

A man three times Levi’s size, or so it seemed, stood at the gaping mouth of the cave, framed by the golden rays of the rising sun. It did not require much deduction on the slave’s part to know who he was.

“Spartacus,” he whispered.

“You must have suffered quite the contusion, boy,” the man replied, voice rich. His companions unceremoniously reached inside and dragged them out of the cave – Levi was at least grateful the rest of them did not struggle.

“For Spartacus is the name given to me by Roman dog who know lies bone bare beneath the Capuan sun,” the man said. He had a kingly presence – perhaps not quite such as Erwin, of a different quality, yet there was an air of reverence among those who followed him. All strong, wild-looking beasts of men.

Gladiators. Now rebels.

“Why hide you here?” Spartacus inquired, leaning in to look at their faces closer. Levi’s mind worked quickly. He could perceive Mike beginning to formulate thought, and he unthinkingly stood in front of his household, braving a gaze at the rebellion’s leader.

“We hide from Roman wrath,” he said, voice shaking. “Such wrath have you brought upon us by pillaging our _dominus’_ villa.”  

Spartacus lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “You must know we are friends to slaves.”

“What friends would kill those of their kind?” Levi shot back.

“A necessity.”

“An atrocity. Your men have made this poor girl bleed,” Levi said, pointing at Isabel. Spartacus’ eyes softened as they skirted over Isabel’s whimpering features.

“We shall have the _medicus_ examine her,” he said impassively.

“We have a _medicus_ among our number,” Levi said testily. Spartacus glanced at Hanji who seemed to become more brazen at the attention, stepping forward.

“And this?” The leader inquired, pointing at Mike. The man sniffed the air warily.

“The _doctore_ of our _ludus_ ,” Levi responded, “to be addressed with reverence.”

Spartacus’ stance seemed to soften as well. “Yes, apologies. The _doctore_ are a noble kind of slave.”

“I assume you to be gladiator? We have not had the fortune of meeting in the arena,” he said, looking back to Levi. The boy shook his head, his hand’s grip tightening on Erwin’s wrist, urging him to stay quiet.

“I am Minutus," he said proudly, “champion of Neapolis.”

“A champion?” Spartacus’ companion stepped closer to examine him. He was a brutish man, undoubtedly of northern origin. “Neapolitan champions have become quite puny over the years, then.”

“See me on the sands, then speak,” Levi replied with a touch of venom. The man laughed, giving his shoulder a push in a manner reminiscent of primeval rituals of manhood.

“I like this one,” he told Spartacus. “We must take them along.”

“What about this one?” A smaller man, quite stocky in his build yet with blazing eyes of fire, stepped closer to examine Erwin whose presence seemed to have gone unnoticed. “Looks quite fine for a slave.”

“A-a recent acquisition of our _dominus_ ,” Levi replied, thinking quickly on his feet. “He was to become a house slave. Not even branded yet.”

He felt Erwin stiffen in his hold yet pressed on. “He came from the southern provinces, quite delicate compared to the likes of us.”

The smaller rebel snorted. “Quite right. Yet his hands seem to have seen battle.”

“I fought against the Romans with the men of my tribe,” Erwin spoke up, surprising Levi with his complacency. “There was not a chance of withstanding their pressing, yet we fought against captivity.”

“As we all should,” Spartacus said. The men with him muttered their agreement. “We shall take you with us, then… Minutus.”

“Levi,” the dark-haired man corrected. “My people called me Levi. If I am to join the rebellion, Levi I will be.”

Erwin’s posture stiffened farther.

“What of you, yellow-hair? What shall we call you?” Spartacus’ brutish companion asked, cocking his head to the side as he examined Erwin’s face. The Roman stood as rock before him.

“Eburwin,” he replied.

“A Germanic name?”

“Mixed blood.”

Spartacus seemed amused by the exchange.

“Come, then, fellow slaves, and be slaves no more. We have wine to drink and whore to feast on in celebration.”

 


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! Grad school is a nightmare!

The stench was unimaginable. Having become accustomed to the refined surroundings of the _ludus_ , as wild as the lower levels filled with gladiators had been, Levi found himself tucking his nose into Erwin’s sleeve as they set foot into the rebel camp. Spartacus took note of his surreptitious motion and chuckled to himself, his eyes clear as the skies above. It seemed as though nothing could trouble the man who carried such burdens upon his shoulders – during their procession from the caves down to the overtaken villa, Levi had caught slivers of conversation indicating the difficulty of the man’s journey towards what he was now.

His friend, the lumbering Gaul, was called Crixxus, and he had quite the mouth on him. As they’d walked, Levi had found himself retorting to his quips, so that by the end of their journey, the man had accepted the Judean slave as one of his own kind, clapping him on his back in a brotherly fashion and eliciting sniggers from Hanji.

Erwin had been very quiet, undoubtedly ruminating a plan, his eyes weary. Levi wondered whether the night in the cave had been his first outside of comfortable wards. Then again, the man had been to war with the Roman Legions; therefore, he must have had some contact with the wilderness. Torn robes did nothing to lessen the regal nature of his step nor the nobility of his features – as if he were the very marble statue of himself that had stood in a secluded corner of his villa, a gift from a marble merchant friend of Erwin’s, and a mockery to the very art itself, according to the subject.

“This is the villa of Numerus, is it not?” The blond finally ventured, when recognition dawned on his face for a brief moment.

“It is,” Spartacus replied. “How would a house slave know such things? Was your master a benevolent man who allowed you liberty of walking in the woods beyond the villa?”

Erwin shook his head, completely at ease with the question. Levi could not help but admire his resilience.

“I have served many masters before, and have had the… privilege of seeing the inside of this villa.”

Crixxus barked out a laugh as he caught a slender dark-skinner girl by the arm and twisted her around to plant a very loud, very improper kiss on her lips. The girl minded not, weaving herself around the man’s titanic stature and deepening the kiss. Once they separated, Crixxus embraced her by the shoulders.

“This here is Naevia, my wife-in-arms.” The young woman smiled a polite smile of a body slave.

“You come from the same house?” Levi asked curiously. Naevia bared her teeth, all demureness fluttered away.

“Under Batiatus, the swine,” she said, her angelic voice harsh. “I was sold to the mines before liberation.”

“I did not rest a day before I found her,” Crixxus said fondly. “Now she is much a soldier like the rest of us.”

“A female gladiator?” Nanaba asked, taking a step forward. “How interesting.”

Naevia took up the challenge immediately, her eyes sparkling coals. “Shall we spar, then?”

Nanaba’s face softened into a smile. “We shall. “

They went off with amicable banter to follow them, and Crixxus turned back to Levi and Erwin.

“Eburwin, you seem soft-spoken for a slave. How’s about those manners of yours?” He asked, his eyes slanted in suspicion.

“I was a good slave,” Erwin replied and Levi fought the urge to laugh at the notes of dramatism in his voice. Apparently the good sons of Rome had been taught to lie as well as pillage other people’s lands. “I did what I had to do in order to thrive in my master’s household.”

“Say, what sort of man was your master? Can’t have been much of one, as he’d left all of you alone to face the rebellion,” Crixxus said, inclining his head. Levi sniggered.

“Stuck-up beyond imagination,” he said, feeling Erwin’s elbow between his ribs. Nevertheless, this opportunity would not present itself again in the same form. Mike and Hanji suddenly stood very interested in the engravings on the marred marble floor of the inner villa.

“Most Romans stand so,” Crixxus replied, glancing between Eriwn and Levi. The latter nodded in an all-knowing fashion, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“One could easily imagine a spear within his asshole,” he said seriously. “Rigid as a pole, he was.”

“He was also a man of fine manners,” Erwin cut in. Crixxus barked out a laugh.

“Sounds like a right frigid Roman, just like the rest of them,” he said. Levi had to place a hand on Erwin’s wrist to prevent him from saying something that would give them away.

“Fret not,” Spartacus spoke up, “you shall have your revenge on him, once the rebellion reaches Rome.”

“You seek to reach Rome?” Erwin asked, his face a mask of polite interest. “How would you accomplish a feat of such proportions? The gods themselves would be envious.”

Crixxus rolled his eyes. “We piss on the Roman gods and all those who fancy themselves alike to them. There is something rotting in this Republic.”

“You suppose it your mission, then, to find the ailment and carve it out?” Erwin questioned. Levi squeezed his wrist warningly. The man was brilliant, perhaps, but he was also quite hot-headed. The righteousness of Rome would be perhaps the only subject on which he could never agree with his lover.

“Perhaps so,” Spartacus interceded, having sensed tension mounting between his right-hand man and the newcomer. Crixxes shook his head, seemingly disappointed by the way Erwin conducted himself. Perhaps even here he would be condemned for not being a proper slave, Levi mused.

“The two of you may take one of the cells in this _ludus_ ,” Spartacus said, nodding towards the entrance. Levi felt Erwin tense in his hold – the man was clearly unaccustomed to such bare quarters; yet this was their only option lest they were agreeable to being executed for siding with the Republic. “I trust you will only need one space to share, do I stand correct?”

Levi felt his cheeks grow hot. Erwin drew a proprietary arm around him, inclining his head so that his temple rested against the very top of Levi’s matted hair. The motion was strangely pedestrian, as if Erwin had learned it from the raggedy children who had played outside the villa in the scorching sun of Neapolis. As if he had made it his business to know how the plebeians conducted themselves.

Levi found the thought humorous and slightly unsettling.

That night, they lay on a cow skin, their limbs twined together as branches. Levi’s head found purchase on Erwin’s chest, and he amused himself with learning to count – he counted the beats of Erwin’s steady heart.

“Share thought, it seems heavy,” he finally said, looking up at the man after long hours of silence between them. As though startled, Erwin looked down at his lover and sighed, his blue eyes almost black in the darkness of the cell.

“These people… they consider themselves saviors,” he whispered, afraid within reason to be overheard by any keen ear that was still awake. Most of the former slaves had already sunk to sleep after having raided the villa’s wine stock, yet one could never be too careful when they were in a position such as Erwin’s.

“They fancy themselves so, yes,” Levi replied, shifting to look at the blond properly. “Why are you burdened with it?”

“They are good people,” Erwin said finally, the tense silence breaking once more as he glanced up through the spaces between the wooden floor boards and towards the star-strewn heavens. “I do not wish to think of what fate would befall them once Rome gets its hands on them.”

“Perhaps you should join the cause, then,” Levi whispered. “A true Roman would know to avoid others of his kin.”

Erwin glanced at the smaller man. “Events recent past have forced me to question how true of a Roman I am.”

Levi lifted an eyebrow. “What is your meaning?”

“Perhaps they are not entirely wrong in their assumption of the Republic’s rotten core,” the Roman replied quietly. Levi’s breath halted with surprise.

“You seem full of revelations today,” he said, cutting the conversation short before it sunk into unpleasantness. The thought of Erwin becoming… different, becoming… something other than the man Levi had served verily was unsettling.

“Ah, forgive me. You must be tired.” Erwin’s voice took on a lighter hue. “Perhaps we should save more revelations until the break of dawn’s light.”

“Perhaps,” Levi echoed. They lay in silence for a while, basking in each other’s warmth. This was intimate in ways that they had never been – especially after Erwin had attempted clumsily to draw Levi into an even deeper relationship.

“Levi?”

“Hm?”

“What will you do now?”

Levi glanced up at the blond’s face again. “Whatever you wish to do, _domine_.”

“Do not call me this,” Erwin responded, a wince taking his handsome features. Levi nodded gently against the bare skin of his chest.

“I should not, lest it give you away. I apologize,” he breathed back. Erwin’s arm around him became a cool statue’s.

“Do not call me that at all, Levi.”

The former slave rolled his eyes at Erwin’s sentimentality. “This changes nothing between us. I am still beneath your station, however noble these rebels think their cause may be.”

“You have always been a better person than myself,” Erwin replied quietly. Levi snorted. “No, allow me word. You have always had… certain principles of which you could not be dissuaded. In a land of foreign gods, you continued to believe in your own. When your dignity had been stripped bare by the people who had captured you, when you had been turned into a toy of their amusement time and time again, you have persevered. You have never been devoid of morals as I have been.”

“Morals? A rat like myself?” Levi questioned in a whisper, rolling over onto his elbows to glance down at the Roman. “You have fashioned me onto a pedestal, don’t you think, _do-_ Erwin?”

“Perhaps I have swung favor just as my gods looked away from my own fortunes,” Erwin replied, a small smile twisting his lips. “Perhaps I require a new altar to worship on.”

“Blasphemous,” Levi replied, with not nearly as much vitriol as he could have done. Warmth flooded his chest upon hearing Erwin’s strange reasoning. He attempted to ignore the feeling. He had to. They could not dream of a world where they would ever stand equal.

And yet, of all places, they were lying in a damp cell, among hostile slaves, bare save for a bit of fabric fashioned from the clothes of the Romans who had once inhabited this villa.

“Levi?”

“Hm?”

Their eyes met.

“May I kiss you?”

Levi’s lips parted in surprise.

“N-never before have you asked me.”

“I have wronged you thus. Forgive me,” Erwin replied diligently. Levi sucked in a breath which shook far more than it should have.

“You may kiss me. On a single condition.”

“What would that be?”

“Do not ask for my forgiveness for such things,” Levi said earnestly, his cheeks aflame. He felt as though he were an adolescent boy yet again. “You are the only man I would allow this without question.”


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! Grad school is hell and side-projects are time-sucking whores.

Watching Erwin spar was more than anything Levi would have expected it to be. He had never seen the man fight, strangely enough, even though he himself had been the subject of public display many times, with sword and shield in hand, with blood on his skin and sweat on his temples.

And despite the fact that Levi knew he had always presented himself as the ultimate spectacle, Erwin was… he was a god. The way he moved, the way the _glados_ seemed to become an extension of his body and spirit, was entrancing. Levi found himself staring at the blond man even as his own sparring partner approached him mercilessly, his eyes narrowed at the newcomer.

The attack, of course, was rebuked effortlessly. Levi broke no sweat as he blocked the man’s blow and parried with his own. He was quite tired of being paired with men inferior to his skill. Some, as Spartacus, had been gladiators, and yet most of those he was forced to practice with had only been in the initial stages of their training. Obviously, Levi was far, far better than any of them; he did not bring the subject of his grievance to Spartacus – the man had very few reasons to trust his new recruits. Levi could not afford to draw any more attention than was strictly necessary for the sake of keeping Erwin’s identity secret.

The man who had been sparring with Erwin fell to the ground, offering two fingers up in surrender. Amicable as always, Erwin assisted him off the ground. They clasped each other’s forearms in camaraderie.

“Yet another win for the great German,” Levi drawled, approaching. Erwin smiled at him warmly, wiping his brow. The movement, Levi believed, was a simple show. The Roman was not breathing heavily.

“It seems to me, dear Levi, you believe me to be boastful,” he said, approaching the former slave. An arm was slung over Levi’s shoulders and he instinctively leaned into the touch, allowing Erwin to manhandle him in a half-embrace of sorts.

“What reason would a man fighting a far inferior man have to boast?” He questioned, baiting the Roman. “Perhaps you shall beat an ant or a cockroach in furious battle next and claim yourself to be the winner of the Republic.”

“And who, pray tell, would provide better competition for a man of my skill, then?” Erwin asked, the answer already clear to both of them – and those who had been in the training yard. Eyes were diverted to the pair, and Levi suddenly felt exposed.

The thrill of such attention was perhaps a bittersweet echo of what he had felt like in the arena, fighting the most majestic of monsters in the Republic. Yet, this was different. This was a display between perceived equals.

Levi drew his sword. Erwin’s smile became wide enough to bridge the Tiber.

“Shall we?” The slave asked, inclining his head in daring invitation. Erwin’s eyebrows shot up yet he drew his sword as well. He leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Levi’s eager lips. The men around them cheered, eager to see the spectacle of two lovers taking to _glados_.

As soon as the kiss ended, Erwin swung, and yet Levi was already nowhere near the blond. His size lent him a very specific gift of speed and he was thankful for it: he had beaten many a physically bigger opponent with simply speed and intellect.

However, none of them had had the intellect of Erwin of Neapolis.

The man was a born strategist, and Levi felt a thrill course through him when he saw the man’s eyes narrow in pondering. He was worthy of a second thought in the man’s eyes – and it was the best compliment anyone could accept from a man as admirable as Erwin.

“Scared of me, little Levi?” Erwin called, more joking than baiting. The slave stuck his tongue out at his former master.

“Scared your body would collapse under weight of age,” he called back, to the hoots and encouraging yelps from their fellow rebels. Entertaining the spectators with banter had been impossible when he’d fought in the arena, simply because his jibes would not have been heard. However, now he could exercise his tongue as well as body. Erwin, however, remained unruffled by his words. He simply offered Levi another polite smile of a man who was methodically bored by his surroundings.

Levi would not allow him to be so for a longer time. With no sound at all, a contrast to the usual grunts and calls heard from the fights, he struck. Erwin avoided his attack perhaps insultingly too easily, and Levi realized at that moment that if all, or at least some of the leaders of the Roman Army were as Erwin, the rebels would not stand a chance of survival.

The arena was hardly about thought. The arena was about strength and weaponry and favor from the crowd. A sparring match with Erwin was akin to charming a snake, as Levi had seen wise men of the East do in the marketplace of Neapolis. It was waiting for an appropriate moment and grabbing the snake by its head, forcing its jaws open and allowing the venom to drip out, disabling its deadly powers.

Erwin was man, snake, and god, all embodied in one powerful figure whose arm was a sword and whose thought bore the speed of lightning. Levi was fighting against a force of nature and as all men in such fight, he had every chance in the world of losing the battle; if only he did not think before acting.

He sprinted backwards, his _glados_ raised in defense. Intelligent as he might have been, Erwin was not an honorable fighter. He had the morals of a true Roman: to strike the weakest at their words, to pillage the near-dead, to end the turmoil of the dying. He was a man for a mercy killing, yet he himself bore no mercy.

Levi could have been yet another stranger off the streets of Neapolis – or he could have been Erwin’s sworn enemy. Erwin struck equally well against both and neither.

The slave found himself circling Erwin, shoulders hunched, resembling a wild animal chasing its prey. Except he didn’t quite know which one of them _was_ the prey. Erwin was as unpredictable as he was amazing.

To Levi, it was strange: that he finally, finally got to fight against his _dominus_ , if only just in practice. They had known each other for quite some time – intimately, even. He knew how Erwin fucked. He knew how he kissed. He knew how irrationally tender the Roman could be when it was just the two of them. He knew how the man thought and what he thought, as Erwin had shared many a private thought with him as they had lain, blissed out, on the floor of Erwin’s villa, with Levi’s head tucked beneath Erwin’s arm and the Roman’s fingers carding through his matted hair.

They had done all these things, things that not even the most intimate, most loving of spouses did together.

And yet, Levi had never fought Erwin.

Perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps this new side of Erwin’s had not been there for Levi to explore intentionally. He had come into Erwin’s service long after the man had stopped being an active part of the Roman army. Of course, once a Roman, always a soldier; and yet Levi had thought Erwin’s days on the battlefield to be over.

It turned out, the man still had many a thing to share with his comrades-in-arms. Many a drop of blood to spill onto the sun-scorched plains and hills of the Republic.

“You stand intimidated?” Erwin asked, inclining his head to the side. Levi wished to wipe the man’s mocking smirk off his face. Yet he did not allow himself to charge. It was too early; and if there was one thing he had learned from fighting on the sands in front of thousands of spectators, it was that anger did not make for a good companion in battle.

He had to bide his time and develop a strategy.

Against a man who was strategy personified.

Levi’s thoughts cost him a split second’s attention, which was enough for Erwin to pi him down against the ground, his wooden sword looming over Levi’s stricken face. Genuine fear was not something Levi was entirely familiar with; yet Erwin seemed adamant on introducing the two of them right then and there, to the whistles and jeers of the other former slaves.

“Do you yield?” Erwin asked calmly. Levi’s eyes found his own sword, blown by the sheer force of Erwin’s attack from his hand and onto the sand several steps away.

He could not reach it.

“Never,” Levi breathed.

“It seems the little dog has bite,” he heard Crixxus say towards the crowd and their voices became even louder, accompanying the pounding of his heart against his ribcage on which Erwin sat, a victor in his mind.

Erwin leaned closer, his breath ghosting over Levi’s lips.

“Perhaps I should teach you a lesson in submission,” he whispered, so that the rest of the people in the court yard did not hear. Levi stared back at him defiantly.

“What leads you to think you can, after months of insubordination?” He asked challengingly, whispering as well. “You have never been capable at taming me, _domine_.”

He felt Erwin shift on top of him and his mouth stretched into a grin.

“You disgusting man,” he said, now louder. “Blood and sad make your cock hard, you animal.”

Erwin’s cheeks were colored with a blush – and that was the moment of weakness which Levi had been waiting for. Even though he was a man seasoned in battle, he was also of high society – and squabbling in the mud with a slave should not have yielded arousal.

Levi mustered up the last of his strength and flipped them over, taking charge of Erwin’s weapon and straddling the blond. The crowd went wild.

He thrust his hips against Erwin’s very obvious arousal, and bent down to kiss his former _dominus_ on the mouth to general approval. Gods, this was liberating. Putting himself on display like this, fighting dirty, fighting against the man he never could have fought before despite their closeness… all of it intoxicated Levi.

“You may yet be a gem in battle,” Erwin said fondly, looking up at his subjugator, when they parted. Levi was now flushed as well, incapable of holding out much longer before he would drag Erwin to their meagre living space and proceed to do other despicable things to him.

The shorter man grinned widely and stood, offering Erwin a hand to help him up.

The two of them were met with hoots and jeers, and it was music to Levi’s ears.

“You fight like a dog,” Spartacus complimented Levi, stepping forward from the crowd. His eyes narrowed when he looked at Erwin. “And you, like a serpent.”

“Both may be useful in battle; do you not stand convinced?” Erwin asked, placing a hand on Levi’s shoulder. Spartacus leveled him with a look which sent shivers down Levi’s spine.

_Does he suspect?_

Finally, the man laughed, patting Erwin on the back.

“Go. Take your boy and celebrate your combat. The two of you won’t have much time to fuck once we move out.”

Erwin’s hand encased Levi’s and he tugged on it, urging the younger man to move towards their cells. Once they were alone, Levi found himself trapped against the wall with Erwin’s hot mouth on his neck.

“ _Do-domine,_ wait,” he hissed, pushing Erwin away. The Roman looked at him, confused for a moment, before letting out a chuckle. He stroked the side of Levi’s face with his large hand, causing the slave to lean into the touch almost instinctively.

“Fret not, Levi. He has seen where my loyalty lies.”

Levi’s frowned.

“It lies with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful art for this chapter was drawn by [seitsensarvi](http://seitsensarvi.tumblr.com/post/162245234694/you-have-never-been-capable-at-taming-me). Check them out!


	13. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... I have no excuse? Well, I have many. Graduate school was a bitch, and I had so many other projects to work on that I simply forgot about this fic. I solemnly swear I won't forget about it again, though! 
> 
> So... please accept my humble apology along with this new (and brief but important) chapter.

Perhaps the best side to being a soldier in Spartacus' ever-growing army was freedom. Freedom to express thought, freedom to pursue passion. Levi no longer spared mind to other rebels, locked in embrace, drunk on wine, fondling each other, kissing, their tongues roaming over skin.

Though he never partook in such over pleasures, he had no qualms with watching it unfold – dozens of people, pressed against each other – as he sipped wine from Erwin's chalice. The Roman's eyes followed the display, a faint smile playing on his lush mouth.

“You enjoy watching such things,” Levi whispered to him, handing the cup back. “The sign of a Roman.”

“The sign of a human, beloved,” Erwin breathed into his ear, making Levi shiver. It stood true that Erwin had become much freer in his own right. Levi witnessed his blossoming every day. The man’s pale skin was now a golden hue, much like that of the former slaves. His sun, kissed by the sun, had faded to near-white. The contrast of his eyes was even bluer now.

Erwin had returned to looking as Levi imagined him to have appeared when he had first become a soldier in the Roman Legion. It was as if he had drunk from the fountain of youth – the fountain of adventure and passion and the endless struggle to survive. At times, Levi flattered himself by thinking he had been the one to lead Erwin to the fountain.

“Perhaps you would like us to join?” Levi asked, lifting an eyebrow as he glanced up at his lover. A small grimace formed on the handsome face.

“I am reluctant,” Erwin replied, looking back at Levi with intensity.

“Why so, _domine_?”

“I believe I have grown quite possessive of your body.”

How could Erwin stand to say such things? Things which made Levi’s heart beat faster and his cheeks flush, lending them the color of the very wine he held in hand. Things which made Levi wish this arrangement of theirs with Spartacus were permanent.

He was aware this was not to last. Sooner or later, they would engage in battle with the Romans; and from then on, who knew what the fates had in store? Perhaps they would win. Perhaps the slaves of the empire would all be free. Perhaps Levi would stand by Erwin’s side as an equal outside of the dream world Spartacus had conjured.

Or perhaps they would fail. They would be caught and crucified and torn to pieces. Perhaps Spartacus would fall in battle, leading to a loss of morale and an inevitable downfall of his men.

Levi yet continued to engage in this fantasy, in the dream of a better world. The world wherein Erwin was his and his alone. Where they would become one, and live to see their hair become the color of silver together before they returned to ashes of the earth.

“You have my body, _domine_ ,” he breathed back, leaning against Erwin’s chest. The man’s arms came up to wrap around his midsection, tightening for a mere moment.

“Do I have your heart as well, Levi?”

The slave froze. Erwin had asked it before, of course, he had. The man had simple notions of love: either one loved, or they did not. It was a view of the world Romans cultivated, thinking they encouraged. Enemy or friend, love or hatred, slavery or freedom. Levi found himself defying such simplicity every step of his tumulus way.

“What would you do with my heart?” Levi asked, pushing against Erwin’s abdomen with his elbow to distance himself from the man. The air suddenly became heavy; Levi was starkly aware of the sounds the lovemaking crowd emitted.

Erwin’s eyes met his, and the intensity of it caused Levi to falter for but a moment.

“I would treasure it beyond all,” the blond replied. Levi looked up at him, his jaw working.

“My heart is no treasure, _domine_ ,” he said, his words cautious. “It is a shriveled imitation of one.”

“Even so, it deserves kindness,” Erwin said, reaching out to place his large hand on Levi’s cheek. “I would offer it to you, were I sure of your acceptance.”

Levi bit the inside of his cheek.

“You jest, _domine_ ,” he said, taking the cup from Erwin’s other hand. “I shall fetch more wine. Perhaps it will cure you of your delusions.”

He departed before Erwin could say another word. The alcove with the stocked amphorae proved to be safe refuge as Levi slumped down the wall, clutching the chalice to his burning chest.

He knew. He was no fool, even though the Roman doctrine considered him such. He was aware his feelings for his _dominus_ had changed, so much so they became the center of his actions. He did not know when they had taken such a turn, yet he did not wish to dwell on it. He could not allow himself to delve into the abyss. He could not allow Erwin to do so either.

His body was all he could give. His body and fighting spirit, to defend Erwin against all ills and see him alive through the war.

His thoughts were brought to an abrupt close when a commotion began. Someone was screaming – many someones.

He shot up, dropping the cup to the floor – it crashed and littered the mosaic with myriad pieces. His legs took him back to the courtyard within mere seconds, hand already on the hilt of his blade. Levi’s eyes went wide when his mind realized what they were seeing.

Romans. There were Romans inside their haven. Romans in armor and Romans on horseback, all of them armed to the teeth.

The place swam in blood.

“Levi!”

“Erwin!”

Gods, he was here. Erwin was still alive, his eyes blazing with determination as he fought against a Roman soldier, his jaw set. Another came at his back, and Levi sprang into action. His sword was buried in the man’s back before he knew it.

They fought shoulder to shoulder, all the while keeping an eye out for Spartacus, who took on six men all on his own. Their leader stood a god, throwing aside the dogs of the Roman Legion as if they were nothing but flies on his skin.

Levi allowed himself to dissolve in the feeling of battle. He had trained for this, he realized. The Romans themselves had taught their slaves to rise up against them. It was a perfect source of irony, one which Levi could not help but admire. The fates worked in mysterious ways.

He fought tooth and nail, never letting Erwin out of his sight. It was not quite necessary, as the only Roman who could hold his own against the invading Legion was Erwin himself. His days with the slaves showed in the way he fought – with abandon and dedication and recklessness which made Levi’s heart stutter and swell all at once.

The Legion stood no chance against them. The riff-raff, the rabble, the slaves who had never taken to the arena were not trained well, yet they burned with a desire to see Roman blood spilled. Within the hour, the soldiers were slain, and their horses, their armor, their swords and shields taken from them and piled in the corner of the same courtyard in which an orgy had occurred seemingly moments before.

Levi thrust forward the last Roman standing, one he had picked up off the blood-stained ground, kicking him, so he knelt.

“Whose man are you?” Spartacus thundered. The Roman shook with fear, his entire body decorated with blood – not his own; but that of his companions.

“P-please d-don’t kill me!” The soldier stammered, his voice unbearably young.

Had Romans turned to enlisting children in their ranks? Levi's lip curled with disgust. He reached out and pulled the boy's helmet off, letting it fall to the floor.

Time’s wake slowed, and yet so much happened.

Levi’s face took on an expression of horror when he realized whom he had kneeling in front of the rebel leader. The boy looked up at him and let out an exclamation of terrified surprise.

“M-Minutus?”

“You know this boy?” Crixxus asked, frowning at Levi, who stood, completely rooted to the spot.

“We have met,” he found his voice to say the words, yet they echoed strangely in his ears.

Eren’s green eyes traveled farther, beyond Levi’s shoulder. His face paled when he spotted what he was not supposed to see.

“You! What are _you_ doing here?!”

Levi felt Erwin shuffle behind him as if he could shield himself from the boy's view by using Levi as a wall.

“Seems he knows an awful lot of people here,” Crixxus sneered. He grabbed Eren by the hair and dragged him to the center, his blade bare. “Dangerous, innit?”

Just before Eren’s eyes stilled in eternal pain, his gurgling throat uttered the words, a trembling finger extended to where they stood.

“Erwin Artifax! He is Roman!”


	14. XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No excuse! None whatsoever! I really want to finish this fic, but at this point, I am so, so immersed in other projects that it's taking a while. Plus grad school and stuff. But I have made a firm resolve to finish it – and I will!

Wine cellars served quite well as dungeons. Levi could have guessed that; now he knew for certain. It was with his hands chained together behind his back, slumped against the stone wall, covered in the same dampness as the wall itself that he obtained this much unnecessary knowledge. Next to him, it seemed as though Erwin was making the same discovery.

They sat together in complete silence, with only their chains and wine amphorae for company. Those, and thought of escape, now apparently pointless. Spartacus had put sentries at the cellar mouth – and there was but one way out into the patio.

Trapped and silent, they sat together, marveling at irony of life.

“They did not slay me.”

Levi turned his head toward his _dominus_ whose voice had broken silent air.

“They did not,” he echoed. “Perhaps they yet have reason in mind.”

Erwin’s laughter, humorless and void, echoed across the chamber.

"Reason? These men kill. They are bred killers," he murmured. His eyes fixed on the side of Levi's face, and the slave suddenly found the ground quite fascinating.

“My people have made them so.”

They had. The Romans had been the ones who had birthed and bred their own worst enemies. The peoples which they had conquered had become a force of nature, prepared to battle to death with their masters. They had groomed and raised them to take arms in hand and go against their owners. Their slaveholders.

“I have made you so.”

Levi scoffed, glancing at the blond man whose noble Roman profile had suddenly become more apparent than ever. Perhaps Levi had managed to fool himself into thinking that Erwin Artifax was one of his people. That Erwin was a slave’s son first, and a Roman second.

Levi had been a fool.

“Do not flatter yourself, _domine_ ,” he said humorlessly. “I was born into filth and filth I remained. What the _ludus_ has done is direct my filthiness to better purpose.”

“You consider taking to the _glados_ a purpose of good?” Erwin questioned, apparently surprised by the slave’s thought process. Levi hummed, mulling it over.

“Perhaps not. Yet I believe I would have still slain and robbed, regardless of where I took shelter and whom I served. Even as a free man, I would have become a twisted animal," he admitted. He was quite convinced that had Judea remained independent, he would have taken to killing and looting and stealing, as it was simply the way in which he had grown up. The men whom he had looked up to as a filthy urchin on the street had all been lacking honor. Those whom he had thought on the arena had at least the pretense of it. An honorable death, slain by _glados_ , spear, or animal; an honorable death by spectacle to please their Roman masters.

“You do not know for certain,” Erwin protested.

“Perhaps not. Yet I know myself, _domine_.”

“Levi, I beseech you. The title is no longer valid,” Erwin said with a sigh. Levi’s heart stilled in his chest. The man’s words had come to sound as a sign of relenting.

He did not want Erwin to relent. Not yet. Not when there was hope still that the two of them would make it out alive. That the rebels would return to them and unchain them, remembering the times in which Erwin, a Roman, had stood among them an ally; not foe.  

“You remain my _dominus_ ,” Levi murmured. “’Till end.”

"Then for not long time," Erwin concluded. Levi shifted, managing to elbow him. Erwin chuckled.

"You are quite defensive of me," he commented to the dark-haired slave who merely shrugged.

“I swore fealty to you, _domine_ , and it is but my only directive," he replied, glancing over at the man who had once been as the sun to him; a supreme god of beauty and fierceness; a man whose words alone had fed Levi to live.

Erwin sighed deeply.

“Why must you inspire me so?” He asked, his voice quiet and almost unlike his own. “You think too much of me, dear Levi.”

“I think just enough, _domine._ I believe you, of all Romans, stood among the slaves and took to _glados_ for our purpose. You trained, eat, and shat together with the slaves who had been taken by your generals and converted into little but cattle. You alone treated us as humans. And you alone deserve to continue living on this earth, the gods and the generals be damned.”

Silence hung between them for a long moment.

“It is for words as yours that I believe in the goodness of your people, Levi,” Erwin said finally.

Levi snorted.

“If you would like me to spout rhetoric, I believe you are misled,” he said. “Mike had always been quite a bit better at inspiring his men.”

Erwin bit his lip.

"I only hope they had managed to escape the fate dealt to you," he murmured. "Perhaps they played the fool and fled."

“If they had been captured, we would’ve known,” Levi said. He glanced over at the blond man and shuffled awkwardly to his side. His skin touched Erwin’s own bare body, and they sat together, side by side, their sweat mingling in the musky air of the wine cellar.

“I would not have asked for better company, Levi.”

“Your words are that of a man who would see his head on a spear at daybreak,” Levi shushed him. “It is yet to be decided, and if Spartacus has not killed you yet, it must mean he is in doubt.”

“Crixxus would whisper in his ear, and to good measure,” Erwin said with a sigh, leaning into Levi’s form. The slave wished he were able to simply pull out a brush and run it through Erwin's hair. To do it the way he had done so many times before, after their coupling in the villa of Artifax. Those moons spent with Erwin in the comfort of home now appeared as mirages. A part of Levi refused to believe in their verity.

“Crixxus’ words are poison,” Levi said harshly. “The man thinks not with head or heart but with muscle. Spartacus would do well not to listen.”

“They are ancient friends, Levi. Loyalty, in many cases, takes precedent over fact,” Erwin pointed out. Levi hummed.

“You speak from experience, _domine_?”

Erwin's eyes found his, and he was trapped.

“Perhaps I do, Levi. Perhaps that may be the reason I am here with you, by your side, and no one else’s. Perhaps it is the very reason I, as you have said so eloquently, trained, and ate, and shat with the very slaves my people have made,” Erwin replied.

“Loyalty?” Levi questioned, his face blank. “To whom, _domine_?”

“To the man who had become sword to me first, and soul to me second."

Levi furrowed his brows, fear seeping into his stomach. He was a man of many talents on the battlefield and arena; he could slay stronger, larger men with his eyes closed; and yet, faced with Erwin’s words, sweet as ambrosia, he could not move not say anything. It was as if Erwin had cast a curse upon him with the sound of his voice.

“Soul?” He finally squeezed out.

“And heart.”

The slave’s eyes returned to the floor.

“Levi, do not turn gaze from me when I confess to you,” Erwin said beseechingly. Levi only shuffled uncomfortably, attempting to get farther apart from his _dominus._

“We have spoken of this, _domine_ ," he muttered. "You cannot give heart to a man as myself. You cannot possibly hold me in high regard as a lover. I have given you body and I have given you mind. Yet my heart remains in chest. To give it to you would be to drive you to the depths of Tartarus.”

“And what if, dear Levi, I am already within those depths?” Erwin asked quietly. He nudged Levi’s side with his own, cursing under breath when his arms refused to budge, chained together tightly.

“What if you are but the only guiding light I have?”

Levi closed his eyes.

“Then you are a fool, _domine._ A fool and a wishful thinker.”

“Grant me my wish, then. I am a dying man, Levi,” Erwin said, his voice filled with laughter. Levi despised it – he despised the way in which his _dominus_ could turn the world on its head and see sun where there was night.

“We are all dying men, _domine_.”

“All the more reason for you to relent,” Erwin replied. “All the more reason for you to allow yourself to be loved by me. Levi, if I am to die at daybreak, I wish to take the journey to the underworld with love in heart and smile on face and knowledge in my mind that one day, when you are withered and old, you shall join me.”

Levi’s chest hurt. It hurt so much he could barely breathe. All the days he had spent pining, wanting, and not allowing himself to reach out and take what he had been wanting for returned, slamming into his lungs with the force of a Titan’s fist. Jupiter himself could have struck him down that moment, and it would have hurt much less.

The gods were surely mocking him and Erwin. To find a love so unlucky, and to receive a chance to bask in it so late.

“ _Domine_ –,”

Before he could finish the sentence, there was a sudden commotion outside. Levi jumped in his skin when he heard the telltale sound of sword on sword; shield on shield; then a short shout – not extended enough to be heard, and a thump indicating the fall of a massive body to the ground.

The cellar door opened, and moonlight hit their eyes, causing them both to look away.

“Erwin Artifax, as I live and breathe.”

Levi felt his _dominus_ flinch beside him, and instinctively gnashed his teeth at whomever dared disturb their moment of tender admission. The man stepped down slowly, his figure becoming more apparent as the darkness of the cellar welcomed him.

"Consoling with the filth, are you, Erwin?" Nile's sickly-sweet voice inquired, before the man himself became distinguishable.

Levi attempted to throw himself between the two of them; his incapacitation allowed him not – instead, Nile’s foot landed square in his chest, causing him to cough and retch as the man drew his _glados_ and pressed it against Erwin’s throat.

“Perhaps this is why the villa is no longer impenetrable. The slaves have no Roman standing by their shoulders in battle.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy the beautiful art [seitsensarvi](http://seitsensarvi.tumblr.com) made for chapter 12. I will add it to the chapter in question, but for now, here you go.

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to drop me a line here or follow me on [Tumblr](http://haganenoheichou.tumblr.com).


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